


The New Recruit

by TheAsexualofSpades



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Kingsman (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone just wants Bond and Q to shag, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Interrogation, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Torture, Q is a Holmes, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sassy, Torture, Triggers, it's bond tho are we surprised, so much shit happens, the fourth series of Sherlock didn't happen, this wasn't gonna be super long but then my character decided to run with the plot bunny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-23 08:58:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 71,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15602862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: The Double-Ohs are at the top of MI6. They're quite used to their position so when they encounter a group of new agents they don't really think much of it. Each one has their favorite.Then 007 finds one. And she turns MI6 upside-down.As it turns out, legends don't die easily, and Bond may not be the only one who specializes in coming back from the dead.As is to be expected, a new shadowy threat is on the rise, but this time, it may be more familiar than people would like.Who will come out on top?





	1. Meet Rosenberg

**Author's Note:**

> Clearly I don't own any of these fandoms. I can only take credit for the characters I've created.

  
Chapter 1: Meet Agent Valerie Rosenberg

MI6 was rarely peaceful. There was always some catastrophe in some country that needed sorting out, and thus Q-Branch would be operating at 72 hour shifts, M would be tearing his hair out - well, what little there was left of it - and most of the Double-Ohs were never in the country for more than a week at a time. But this was one of the rare moments where they were all in the same place, and there was no pressing mission that would have them tearing off halfway around the globe. This was dangerous; a large amount of adrenaline and ego that each of the Double-Ohs possessed made them a threat on their own, but together they were practically unstoppable. And everyone in MI6 knew it.

They used this to their advantage, terrifying the minions - self-named, thank you very much - in Q-Branch into giving them the latest gadgets, frightening the other agents into letting them have the whole gun range to themselves - purely for sport as they already had their own - even going so far as to gang up on Tanner or even M for extra mission perks or excuses if they had to get out of a boring meeting with Medical or HR. Therefore, it wasn’t unheard of for the entirety of MI6 to simultaneously cringe or wince when the Double-Ohs got together. The only people who seemed immune to this cloud of fear were the Quartermaster - unsurprising, given his relationship with 007 - and Moneypenny. These two seemed to be able to wrangle the Double-Ohs into some form of submission, at least to the point where they wouldn’t blow up half of the training facility out of sheer boredom. Unfortunately, they had put a lockdown on all of the Double-Ohs which restricted them to the MI6 grounds, and so far, none of them had found a way around it. So, for a lack of other options, 004 suggested they go see how the newest batch of agents was shaping up. What could go wrong?

As they made their way downstairs, 007 thought about how it felt to be at the top of the food chain - so to speak - of MI6. Looking around, he could see how the other agents seem to move out of the way as he glanced at them, and how the other Double-Ohs exuded confidence in everything that they did. It was nice, up here. No one dared call you on anything. No one would try and take something you laid a claim on. No one would get in your way. Yes, he thought, it was nice to be the best. Before long, the pack had reached the gym where the recruits were training. As 009 pushed open the doors, all of the instructors looked around and 007 swore he saw all of their faces go pale. He knew the rest of the Double-Ohs had seen the same thing, judging by the smirks plastered across their faces and the way they strutted across the floor. Intimidating the new agents was one of their favorite past times, and the instructors hated them for it. Most of the recruits continued their exercises as the formidable group walked over to the instructors, but as the Double-Ohs reached the instructors in the middle of the facility, whispers began to unsettle the recruits, many of them stopping and watching the exchange. The Double-Ohs were known for their skill and power. 007 looked around to see most of them staring in an odd mix of fear and awe, quickly stifled as they turned to avoid his gaze. Alec Trevelyan, 006, clapped R on the shoulder. “So, how are the baby agents doing?”

“Given the circumstances, better than you might think.” There had been a lapse in recruitment in the aftermath of taking down SPECTRE, and things were just starting to pick up again.

“See any new ones that stand out?” 009 chimed in. R looked carefully at her, then at the rest of the Double-Ohs, all with looks of innocence on their faces. As the whole of MI6 knew, when a Double-Oh takes a liking to you, you suddenly had a target on your back. When all of the Double-Ohs took an interest in you, your name shot straight to the top of the hit list.

“Why do you want to know?” R finally asked cautiously.

004 was quick to answer. “Call it a healthy interest in the next generation of agents.” 007 snickered at that. Nothing a Double-Oh ever did was healthy. R seemed to share his opinion.

“Uh-huh.” She raised an eyebrow. “Just like you had that healthy interest in the grenade launcher Q developed last week.”

The Double-Ohs all shuffled nervously. That had been quite an incident. Let’s just say Winston Churchill’s statue had looked much better when the other half of his body was still attached. There were a few minutes of awkward silence. Finally, 006 broke it. “Is there any harm in us asking about the baby agents? Surely they’ll have to deal with us sooner or later. Why not make it sooner?”

R appreciated his logic. Dealing with the Double-Ohs was an inevitable part of life at Six. Consider it part of their training. “Fair enough. But if they end up in Medical by the end of the week, it’s on your heads, not mine.”

With that, she strode over to one of the many gun ranges in the place, towards some of the agents who by now had been told to get back to work by one of the other instructors working the floor. Two of the four agents looked apprehensive at the approach of the Double-Ohs, even going so far as to draw back. The other two remained focused, calmly firing at the targets until the instructor motioned for them to stop. He pushed a button, and the targets sailed towards them. One of the recruit’s shots were grouped around the chest area, and the other’s shots were dotted down the center of the target. R turned back to the group. “Agents Smith and Wesson. Somewhat aptly named. They’re two of our best shots in the group.” 009, the best sniper this side of anywhere, nodded appreciatively.

The next stop was the high ropes course. Heavy ropes crisscrossed the room, hanging from the ceiling and anchored to the floors and walls. One agent was climbing nimbly across the web, jumping from one rope to the other. 007 raised his eyebrows. This course was hard, especially for someone of his size and build. This young woman was making it look easy. Some of the other Double-Ohs clapped as she landed next to the instructor. R’s voice came from somewhere behind them. “Agent Bradbury. Regular monkey, that one. Never seen someone so at home in the skies so quickly. Also one of the best at handling interrogations.” Out of the corner of his eye, 007 caught 005’s scoff, even though it was quickly covered with a cough. Secretly, he agreed. 005’s interrogation skills were legendary. No one had ever made it past her. “Don’t worry,” he murmured as they moved on, “I’m sure she’s no match for you.”

“You’d better believe it, buster,” she sniped back, a familiar smile touching the corners of her mouth.

They visited a few more stations, each of the Double-Ohs recognizing an agent that shared their talent. Seems like this new batch of baby agents could become the new batch of Double-Ohs. Each of the veterans was coming away with smiles on their faces and a jibe that they’d better watch their backs.

Everyone except 007.

His specialty was shock and awe. The bold statement. The all-rounder. The agent you sent in when no one else could get the job done. The agent who could – and has – handled it all. The one you could rely on to do anything and everything. And so far, no one else could do his job as well as he did. Many younger agents had tried to take his position over the years, but he always remained on top. Not a single recruit had even come close to him. Even after Skyfall, he was still the best at his job. And so far, it looked like he would stay there. Like I said, he smirked as they left the training facility, it’s good to be the best at your job.

It’s good to be the best.

* * *

“So, what do you think? Should we all be watching our place at the top of the food chain?” 002 said once they were all back in the relative safety of Q’s office. The boffin claimed he didn’t like to be bothered by the Double-Ohs, but everyone knew they were just as welcome as a hot cup of Earl Grey in his office as long as they kept their hands to themselves. And included him in any gossip. Q smirked in return. They were looking over the files of the recruits they had just seen, courtesy of Moneypenny.

“I don’t know, you’re all getting older. And most of them are pretty good.” All of the Double-Ohs bristled, then one by one made some gesture of agreement. Except for 007. 009 was the first to speak.

“Agents Smith and Wesson were pretty good shots, for new recruits. They could be very promising once they’ve been trained up a bit.”

“From what I’ve heard, Agent Bradbury is just as good at getting information from people as she is protecting it,” 005 spoke up from where she was reclined against the wall, “I’d love to see what she can do first hand.”

Q nodded in agreement. “They’re stronger than they look,” he said, ignoring the scoff that came from the vague direction of behind him, “they could all take a position on this team. Once you’ve done more than your fair share of damage.” The scoff came again. He turned to see 007 watching them all with contempt. “And what exactly are you scoffing at?”

Bond looked up with mock innocence. “Like you said. Everyone here has a replacement in that arena.” He paused, looking at the rest of the Double-Ohs. “Each of you has just seen the agent that will most likely take your job. Everyone except me.” 006 looked like he might argue, but he shut his mouth and looked at the others. They all shared his look of guarded agreement and disbelief. All except Q.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure one of them could take on the mantle of 007,” he began.

“No. James is right,” 009 broke in, “all of those recruits we’ve just seen have a skill they prefer over the others. If we need a new Bond, they have to be good at everything.” She shot a snide look towards Bond. “Or at least halfway decent at it.” Bond returned the look with a raised eyebrow.

“And each one of them that we saw looked fairly obedient,” added 004, “if 007 needs to be replaced, we need someone who is equally bad at following the rules.” The room filled with laughter. “I’m serious! Where are you going to find someone as good as appearing to follow rules but actually destroying them as James Bond?” 007 nodded in agreement, even though the rest of the room was still chuckling.

“So, does this mean I get to stay here forever? Even past death? Again?” Bond smirked. “And it’s not like we’ll find another Barker down there.”

The rest of the room readily agreed, apart from Q, who frowned at his screen. “Who?”

“Agent Barker. The best assassin the world has ever seen,” 003 said quickly.

“Apparently used to work for the British Government before he disappeared off the face of the earth. No one could ever land a blow on him,” 004 chimed in.

“Reportedly took down countless organizations across the world. Ones that make Quantum and SPECTRE look like Scotland Yard,” 005 added with a smirk. Most of the Double-Ohs didn’t have a high opinion of their police force.

“And could get information out of anybody. Hardest person to interrogate, too,” 009 remarked.

“Sounds like someone you’d get along quite well with,” Q smiled, looking back towards Bond, who raised an eyebrow. “And sounds equally overhyped.”

“He’s a legend. And legends never die easy,” he smirked, pushing himself off the wall. “Why do you ask, Quartermaster? Hoping someone else will occupy my time instead of coming here to see you?”

“Never, 007,” Q shot back, before looking at an alert that had popped up on his computer. “Apparently M has discovered your interest in the baby agents. I would advise you all to be more cautious next time.”

The Double-Ohs all snickered and turned to leave. Bond was the last one out. As he was closing the door behind him, Q called out. “Bond?”

“Yes, darling?”

“What about Agent Rosenberg?”

Bond stopped. R hadn’t shown them an Agent Rosenberg. He stepped carefully back into Q’s office. “Who?”

“Didn’t R show you?”

“No…we saw Agents Smith and Wesson, Agent Bradbury, Agent Punnet, Agent Alford, Agent Newberry, Agent Jones, Agent Hayden, and Agent Yeager. No Agent Rosenberg.”

“Well, check her out. She might surprise you.” Q waved him out.

Bond left, curious about this Rosenberg character. And why R hadn’t shown her.

* * *  
“Agent Rosenberg? No, I don’t remember seeing her. Or even hearing about her.” Alec and James were down in the private range for the Double-Ohs, testing the prototypes Q-Branch had just developed. Alec checked the safety was off, before aiming at the target down the range. He fired three times, striking each target dead center. “I wonder why R never showed us her if Q thinks she could replace you. Maybe it’s because she’s just as bad about showing up on time.” He earned a punch on the shoulder for that.

“Shut it, old man.” James stepped up and fired. Each target received a clean headshot, guaranteed kill. He stepped back to the table between them to reload. “I’m serious. Q’s judgment on agent’s capability is excellent. Hell, he’s even proved M wrong on whether an agent is good enough or not.”

006 cocked his head in agreement. “I think we’ve all learned to trust Q. With our lives. So if he says this Rosenberg is good, I’ll believe him. But I’d still like to see her for myself.”

“We’re in the same boat, then.”

“So, another trip to the arena tomorrow?”

“No, let’s talk to R when she’s down in Q-Branch. If she didn’t show us Rosenberg in the arena when we were there, it’s likely for a reason.”

“Sounds good. Bet I can make more kill shots in 20 seconds than you can.”

“Bring it on, old man.”

* * *

R sighed. The Double-Ohs were driving her crazy. She wasn’t as intimidated by them as most of the others, but she didn’t have the control that Q and Moneypenny had over them. So when 006 and 007 cornered her in Q-Branch, she knew it was going to be a long day. She looked up in exasperation as they stopped in front of her. “What can I do for you?”

The pair exchanged a glance. “We were wondering about some of the new recruits. How their training is coming along -” 006 started, but R interrupted him mid-sentence.

“Alright, what is this really about? You two have shown no interest in the baby agents before two days ago. Now you want to know every detail of their training. Pardon me if I seem a little suspicious.”

006 was silent, unsure how to continue. 007 waited a minute before deciding to go for it.

“Who is Agent Rosenberg?”

R froze. Her mouth hardened into a thin line. Her hands gripped the gun in her grasp so tightly it looked as if it might shatter. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. As she let it out she opened her eyes and with forced gentleness put down the gun and slid it to the other side of her desk. “Who told you that name?” She spoke with the kind of forced calm 007 had only seen when she was either incredibly mad or incredibly nervous.

“Q did. Said he was surprised you didn’t show us her when we came by.”

“Damn him,” R muttered under her breath. “Agent Rosenberg is…different. She’s not like the other recruits. She claims she’s never done anything espionage-related before, but…she’s comfortable with things even senior agents would balk at. And she doesn’t really like being told what to do.”

007’s eyebrows rose. Maybe Q was right. Sneaking a look at Alec, it was clear they were thinking the same thing. “How so?”

“Well, she’ll follow orders, but she won’t do things exactly as we’ve said. Last week, she completed the Nosebleed Test in record time, but it wasn’t exactly what we had in mind.”

This grabbed the Double-Ohs’ attention. The Nosebleed Test was a test where the agent had to scale the climbing wall using only a pair of knives to retrieve a ring hanging from a rope at the top. It was notoriously difficult, and both Alec and James had struggled to complete it the first time around. “What did she do?”

“Well, once the instructor told her what to do, she asked if the main objective was to retrieve the ring by any means necessary. He told her yes, it was. So she took one of her knives and threw it to slice through the rope holding the ring. She picked it up, walked back over, and handed it to the instructor. Fastest completion time ever.”

007 couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips. “Technically, she did complete the test.”

“That was her argument. He made her do the test again properly anyways. She still did well.”

“And you said she was comfortable with other tasks as well?” 006 asked.

“One of the other tests we did had the agents working in pairs to obtain information. Each team was presented with a file on a supposed target, then sent in to interrogate. Rosenberg’s team was assigned a married man working for an enemy agency. Her teammate hadn’t tried the psychological tactic and focused on physical threats to the man himself. But he wasn’t cracking. Rosenberg, within two minutes of starting her interrogation, spotted the man’s protectiveness of his family and capitalized on it. She broke him in half the time her teammate had spent in the room.”

006 looked alarmed. 007 looked intrigued. “How old is she?”

R sighed.

“In her twenties. Look, next time we have her in, you two can come to see for yourselves.”

006 seemed satisfied and turned to go. 007 followed until R called his name. He looked back. She was standing, leaning slightly over her desk. “You said Q told you about her?” At his hesitant nod, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Then he thinks you can help us figure out who she really is.”

007 was taken aback. Surely Six knew who this agent was? “Isn’t it in her file?”

“That’s the thing. It’s too clean. Look it over, she’s just another recruit. But something’s not right.”

With that, 007 turned and left. This was going to be interesting.

* * *

The facility was filled with agents when 006 and 007 walked in. As they looked around, they could see instructors coaching the agents on all forms of physical training, from the high ropes course to the gun range, to the double-end bags and the sparring mats on the other side. They spotted R in the middle, giving a weapons presentation to a small group of recruits. She shook her head slightly as they approached, signaling she was busy at the minute. 006 shrugged. “Should we look around a bit? See if we can spot the mystery agent?”

007 nodded, then turned to look over all of the agents. “Where should we start?”

They wandered around for a fair bit, looking over the recruits. They saw a few of the familiar faces R had shown them the other day around the arena. Agent Bradbury was throwing knives at targets. Agent Smith was sparring with Agent Wesson. Other agents showed signs of promise, but no one stood out as different. They were about to call it quits when 006 noticed a small agent standing next to one of the mats nearby where Smith and Wesson were sparring. He nudged James with his shoulder. “What about her?” James turned to look. She was slight, not very tall. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail that dangled down her back. She was standing with her feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind her back, watching the others spar. Her expression was neutral, no malice, no amusement, nothing. Just blank. 007 watched her for a minute.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem all that special.” He started to walk away. Alec pulled him back.

“Wait. Look.”

One of the instructors had walked over to the young woman. He had brought one of the other agents with him, a tall, well-built agent. His former sparring partner was being helped up by two other recruits, one of his legs flopped uselessly under him. The instructor motioned for the agent to take his place on the mat. 006 turned to James. “Isn’t that Agent Yeager?” Agent Yeager was a master of hand-to-hand combat. The Double-Ohs had seen him take down a team of four other agents with ease. 006, in particular, had taken a liking to him. 007 smiled.

“Are you seriously making me watch your favorite beat up another agent simply because she might be Agent Rosenberg?”

“Maybe,” 006 smirked, “or maybe not.”

“And they call me the showoff.”

They both turned back to the mat. Agent Yeager had been directed to one end. The instructor was now leading the young woman by the arm to the other end. When she turned, 007 understood why her hands had been behind her back. They were bound in silver handcuffs, rendering her handicapped for the upcoming fight. The rest of the recruits had stopped sparring and were gathering behind the instructor. Agents Smith and Wesson were elbowing each other and sniggering. 006 leaned in close to mutter: “Now what do you suppose she’s done to deserve that?”

“Maybe she insulted Yeager’s haircut.” Indeed, Agent Yeager’s lack of hair seemed to be a sore spot for him, as he rubbed his head nervously before taking a fighting stance. “Much like yours, Alec, it leaves a lot to be desired.”

“We’ll see who’s laughing in a minute.” 006 seemed unaffected by Bond’s jibe, even though he ran a hand quickly through his hair before falling silent.

By now, the instructor had finished explaining the rules and stepped back. Agent Yeager rolled his head around, smirking as he heard a few pops. He rolled his shoulders back and cracked his knuckles. “You ready, little girl?” He leered at the small woman on the other end.

“By all means, do what you will.” Her voice was steady, unintimidated. She still stood calmly, her stance relaxed. 007 shook his head as Yeager charged. She was about to be flattened.

But as Yeager reached the agent, his fists raised, she stepped quickly to the side and tripped him. He crashed to the ground with a thump as she took two steps forward and turned to face him. Yeager quickly recovered, rolling over and bouncing back to his feet. “I’m not here to dance, Valerie.”

“I’m sure.”

He charged again, if anything moving even faster than before, but again, Valerie stepped aside nonchalantly, leaving Yeager sprawling on the floor. The rest of the recruits were laughing as Yeager heaved himself to his feet once more, scowling at Valerie. She returned the glare with a look of confusion. “I thought you weren’t here to dance?”

007 smiled. Oh, he was liking this one.

Instead of charging again, Yeager swung a fist towards Valerie’s head. 007 tensed, waiting for the whack of skin against skin, but Valerie bent her legs slightly, the height difference making it easy for her to duck and avoid the blow. Yeager snarled, advancing on her and aiming a series of powerful hits at various places on Valerie’s small frame. She dodged effortlessly, backing away and evading his attempts to overtake her. Whilst Yeager was breathing heavily, she looked calm and collected, not so much as a drop of sweat marking her complexion. It seemed that this was easy for her, her body mirroring that of someone who’s done this many times throughout their life. At least until Yeager swept his leg under her, knocking her to the ground with a thud. She landed smack on her rear, hands under her body, wincing as Yeager stood towering over her. He sauntered leisurely closer to her, cracking his knuckles. Alec bumped 007’s shoulder. “Seems your recruit is down for the count. Better luck next time, buddy.”

007 was about to cut his losses and turn when Valerie moved. She shifted her weight back onto her bound hands and swung her legs up in front of her. Her feet connected with the other agent’s gut, effectively knocking the wind out of him. She used her upward momentum to propel him over her head before swinging her body back down and into a neat forward roll. When she stood, 007 realized she had swung her legs through her cuffed wrists so that her hands were in front of her. She turned to face Yeager with a solemn expression on her face. It appeared playtime was over.

Yeager shot forward like a bullet. Valerie intercepted his fist, deflecting the hit with her left forearm. Yeager quickly aimed another at her stomach, but she trapped his wrist between hers, ensnaring his hand in the link between the cuffs. She threw her body over his outstretched arm in a side aerial, the heel of her left foot catching him just under his skull, causing him to pitch violently sideways. She landed lightly, straddling Yeager’s body, his hand still caught in hers. He jerked forward in an effort to throw her off balance, crying out as his shoulder dislocated. He rose unsteadily, clutching his arm. He glared at Valerie, who still looked unshaken. “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”

She didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow.

Once again, Yeager ran towards her, expecting her to meet his challenge as before. Valerie feinted to the right, and when he swerved to meet her, she moved to the left, turning to bring her elbows down between his shoulder blades. At the same time, she brought her knee to connect with his groin in a brutal hit. Yeager’s howl echoed around the room. He was forced into a somersault mid-air before landing hard on his front. If it wasn’t for the mat, he would have been knocked unconscious. Quickly, Valerie pounced and landed heavily on top of him, something not to easily achieved for someone of her size. She had her knees on either side of his ribcage, her handcuffs wrenching Yeager’s head back and the metal link cutting off his windpipe. “Enough!”

The instructor stepped onto the mat, pushing Valerie’s shoulder in an effort to make her stand. She dropped her hands from around the much larger agent’s neck, leaving him gasping like a fish out of water as she faced the instructor. He produced a key and unlocked her cuffs, jerking his head to motion for her to stand at the back. She nodded once sharply, then walked off the mat and returned to where she was standing before the engagement. Across the room, Bond turned back to Alec, who stood grey-faced with his mouth hanging open.

“Or maybe you were wrong,” he smirked as Alec struggled to speak. “Might want to close your mouth. You’ll catch flies like that.” With that he strode over to the mats, where Yeager was being helped off to Medical by two other agents, holding onto his shoulder tightly.

Valerie watched as Yeager limped off to Medical, groaning as the agents helping him jarred his shoulder. She rolled her eyes. Prick had been too much of a showoff to actually focus on the fight. Still, it was an interesting match. Especially with two Double-Ohs watching. She’d noticed them when they came in. 006 and 007. The infamous tag team of utter destruction. Now, why on earth were they here? Well, if the way 007 way striding towards the instructor was any indication, she was about to find out.

The instructor finished giving the agents their tasks and assigned new partners. As they split up to carry out his orders, he turned to talk to Valerie but found 007 blocking his path. “Yes?”

“Quite a fighter you have over here.”

“Well, she doesn’t lack confidence.” The instructor seemed a little wary of the Double-Oh taking such an interest in his job so suddenly. He glanced over Bond’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of 006 walking over. “She’s quite good. For a new recruit.”

“So she’s just starting out? She’s never done anything like this before?” 007 took a step nearer.

“Well, no…” The instructor was now becoming a little anxious. “According to her file – “

“And what do you think? In a file is one thing, what do you think of her performance in person?”

The instructor wilted under his look. “She… picks things up very quickly,” he finished weakly. 007 nodded once before turning and meeting Alec as he joined him. They exchanged a look before coming over to stand on either side of Valerie. She was watching Smith and Wesson tussle with another pair of agents. They stood slightly behind her and mirrored her stance, shoulders relaxed, hands clasped behind the back, feet shoulder-width apart. 007 spoke first.

“He needs to drop his left arm. Leaves an opening to attack the ribs.” He looked over at 006, inviting him to play along. 006 nodded.

“And it would be easier if they each worked together to take out the other two. Force them back to back to give them less room to maneuver.”

“Mhm. Smith seems to be favoring a quick series of blows, all centered around the vital areas. Wesson has more power, but strikes slower.”

“They complement each other.”

They continued this pattern of observations for a few minutes, pointing out various weaknesses or lapses in strength. Valerie remained silent between them. Alec noticed.

“What do you think, Valerie?”

She turned her head, looking at him. He inclined his head towards the agents on the mat. “Any problems or talents you can spot?” She narrowed her eyes slightly before turning her attention back to the mat.

“Smith has recently been to Medical on account of a cracked femur. Wesson draws focus whenever Smith stumbles or the agents seem close to figuring that out. Wesson has a difficult time landing a blow on his opponent, she’s too fast. He relies on Smith to surprise her. They cover for each other, each knowing the other well enough to anticipate moves or weaknesses. But neither is comfortable fighting one on one.” She looked back at 006, who was staring at her. “Sir?”

“How did you know about Smith’s trip to Medical?” 007’s voice came from behind her. She turned to see him looking at her in very much the same way 006 had been. “When did it happen?”

“Look at the way Smith fights. He uses his other leg to support most of his weight and he struggles to turn quickly. He pivots instead of stepping out of the way. That would indicate that he has some form of injury. But because he still is fairly mobile, it must mean the injury is not that serious. And the fact that Medical let him loose supports that.” 007 snorted. Clearly, the Double-Ohs were not the only ones who despised trips to Medical.

“You’re quite good at this.” 007 turned so he was facing Valerie. “Even though you haven’t been training here for that long. You started, what, a few months ago?”

“Yes, sir. Five this Tuesday.” Valerie took a step backward so that she could see both agents, and they, in turn, moved so they were in front of her, blocking most of her view of the rest of the gym. Much like Yeager, they both dwarfed her in size. “I’ve learned to pick things up as I go. I improvise.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Valerie still hadn’t shifted from her relaxed stance, but both 006 and 007 had unclasped their hands, 006 crossing his arms and 007 standing with his in his pockets. It was 006 who spoke next. “Quite impressive, how easily you took down Agent Yeager. From what I’ve heard he’s very good at hand to hand combat.”

“Some people were quite taken aback by it.” James shot a smirk over to Alec, who rolled his eyes. “I imagine not many people expect you to beat them.”

“You’d think people would learn not to underestimate their opponents. But…” Valerie shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a mistake not easily forgiven.” She finished with a small smile.

Both the Double-Ohs laughed. “Clearly. You think Yeager will make that mistake again?” 006 chuckled.

“Only if his massive ego re-inflates before his injury heals. Otherwise, I’m fairly certain his dignity will end up as bruised as his shoulder,” Valerie replied. 007’s grin was wider than he could remember, and it was well deserved. Alec had a similar grin on his face. They were about to continue before they heard R’s voice cutting across the gym.

“Alright, which one of you two sent Yeager down the hall with a busted shoulder?” R came to a stop in front of the two agents, her arms folded across her chest and a stern expression on her face. “Remember what I said about the new recruits?”

“Actually, this time, it wasn’t us.” 006 snuck a glance at Bond, who was still grinning. “It was her.”

The two stepped slightly apart to reveal Valerie, still standing calmly behind them. At the sight of her, R uncrossed her arms and clenched them into fists at her sides. Striding forward, she thrust her face into Valerie’s and spoke in the same forced tone she had spoken to 007 with earlier. “What did I say about rendering the other agents permanently incapacitated? You know how M reacted after what you did to Agent Kim last week. You’re lucky Kim was too embarrassed to admit what actually happened.”

007 was shocked at R’s reaction. Surely this wasn’t a common occurrence. But he was even more surprised at Valerie’s response. Instead of bowing her head and muttering an apology, as he’d anticipated, she raised her chin defiantly.

“A dislocated shoulder is hardly a long-term injury. Yeager will be fine within two weeks. And, as I have told you, Q, and all of the others who have reminded me of what happened to Agent Kim, there is a reason why you don’t attack another agent when they have a loaded gun in their hands,” she stated coolly, meeting R’s glare with a blank face. The standoff held for a few seconds, the tension almost palpable. Then R drew back and sighed in defeat.

“Very well, at least try not to hurt anyone else too badly.” She placed her hand on Valerie’s shoulder before moving away. “The last thing we need is another group of agents ganging up on you.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage, R. Thank you,” Valerie smiled before nodding at the two Double-Ohs who were standing completely still, watching the two women. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Speaking of introductions, I’m not sure I caught the rest of your name,” 007 asked casually.

R smirked before turning to face the two men. “006, 007, meet Agent Valerie Rosenberg.”  



	2. The Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new agents are put to the test in a sparring tournament, and some weird things come up in Rosenberg's file.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these first few chapters are gonna be kinda long while the exposition happens. bare with me plot will start to kick in soon

006’s jaw dropped. “You’re Agent Rosenberg.”

Valerie’s brow wrinkled. She glanced over at R. “I thought you said none of them were interested in the new recruits.”

“They weren’t. Not until three days ago.” R looked back over at 006. “And clearly, they still don’t realize they started out very much the same.”

That got 006’s attention. He snapped back out of his daze. “Well, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” With that, he bid a hasty farewell to R and made his exit. Valerie stared at his retreating back.

“So is 006 typically so surprised by us newbies or am I just lucky?”

“Well, it’s not typical for one of them to have a few surprises of their own in store.” 007 turned back to the two women. “And it’s not typical for them to not be afraid of us.”

“Unfortunately, that’s remarkably accurate,” R broke in, “Most of the agents would balk at the prospect of talking to a Double-Oh. Even those who’ve been here for many years.”

“Really?” Valerie’s tone showed her disbelief, even though her expression gave away nothing. “Can’t imagine why.”

“Most of them aren’t used to such attractive people talking to them,” 007 said with a suggestive smirk, expecting Valerie to blush or at least shift uncomfortably.

“Well, then most of them have never been outside for more than five minutes.”

Ouch.

R was trying - and failing - to stifle her laughter. Valerie hadn’t even flinched. Bond was impressed. If a bit hurt. That was new. She certainly had a lot of spunk. He extended his hand. “Agent Rosenberg.”

“007.” Her grip was strong, unwavering. He turned and left. As he exited the facility, he realized he hadn’t stopped smiling.

* * *  
Moneypenny looked up to see Bond striding into her office. “Hello, Bond.”

“Moneypenny. How are you?”

“Considering the state of anxiousness Mallory had been in for the past month, pretty good.” She leaned back in her chair and looked Bond up and down. “But you didn’t come here to ask about my health did you?”

Bond smiled. Moneypenny always knew. “No. I need access to an agent’s file.”

Moneypenny raised an eyebrow. “Well, that is an unusual request. Does your Double-Oh status not give you access?”

“Well, yes…but then you can tell it was me who looked at the file.”

Moneypenny’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. James Bond, afraid of someone knowing he looked at their file? Most people took that as a compliment. And Bond was famous for flaunting his ability to be recognized. “Well, that changes things, doesn’t it? Might I be privy to whom this elusive file belongs to?”

“Agent Valerie Rosenberg.”

“And why do you want access to her file?”

“Q and R both seem a bit suspicious of her. R asked me to look over her file.”

Bond and Moneypenny looked at each other. Bond wasn’t sure if Moneypenny would help him. As her reputation proved, she was constantly assessing things from every angle, trying to find every possible motivation for different courses of action. And the look she was giving him right now said that she didn’t quite believe his story. Which was completely true. Utterly. In every single aspect of the word.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Moneypenny turned back to her computer and began to type. “Agent…Valerie…Rosenberg.” And hit the enter key. She looked up at Bond who was still standing on the other side of her desk. She smiled. “Well, do you want to see her file or not?”

Bond quickly walked over to stand behind Moneypenny, bending down slightly to read the screen. Agent Rosenberg’s name was written neatly at the top next to her headshot. She was listed as recruit no. 76, one of the more recent agents to join Six. Moneypenny began to scroll through, reading out her scores for various tasks and skills. “Hand-to-hand combat, a score of 7. Marksmanship, a score of 7. Interrogation skills, also score of 7. Seems like a pretty solid recruit.”

“Keep going. Look at the others,” Bond ordered.

“Alright, calm down, I’m reading,” Moneypenny said tiredly, “let’s see…basic manipulation, a score of 8. Agility, a score of 7. Endurance, a score of 6. Deception, a score of 8. Unsurprising. And interrogation resistance…” Moneypenny trailed off.

“What?” Bond asked sharply.

“Interrogation resistance. A score of 9.”

Bond’s head snapped up. 9? That meant she was practically unbreakable. And as the Double-Ohs knew, the tests for interrogation resistance were tough. If Valerie had scored a 9, there was clearly something more to her than meets the eye. Moneypenny stared wide-eyed at the screen. “You said Q and R were suspicious about her?”

Bond nodded. “Not whom she said she was.”

“Well with that score, I’m not surprised. I’d like to know a bit more about her myself.” Moneypenny continued to click through her file, scanning for anything that stood out. Bond shadowed her closely, crouching closer to the screen. Then something caught his eye.

“Wait, go back.” Moneypenny clicked back a few pages. “There. Her service record’s been redacted. And it doesn’t say where it’s from.”

  
Moneypenny frowned. “Why would she have a service record? If she’s a new recruit, she wouldn’t have been sent out on any assignments yet.”

Bond straightened. “Looks like Q had the right idea.”

Moneypenny nodded in agreement. “Have you told the rest of the Double-Ohs?”

“Alec knows. The rest don’t. I think we should keep it that way for now, but I would like to talk to Q. Coming?”

Moneypenny stood, snagging her phone from her desk. “Let’s go call in the troops.”

“By the way,” Moneypenny said as they walked down the corridor, “what made Q tell you about Agent Rosenberg?”

“He thinks she could replace me.”

Moneypenny was silent for the rest of their trip to Q-Branch.

* * *  
Q frowned. Normally Moneypenny and Bond only came together to drag him out to eat. But he’d made sure he’d eaten today. Twice, in fact. So he was slightly confused at their presence in his office now. “Moneypenny. Bond. How can I help you two?”

Moneypenny gently closed the door before stepping forwards. “Apparently, there’s a new recruit in the baby agents called Valerie Rosenberg.”

Q stopped typing. “So. You’ve seen her, then.”

“Bond has. I’ve just seen her file.”

“Not what you’d expected, is it?”

“Why does she have a service record?” Bond broke in. Q frowned.

“That’s just one of the issues with that file. Those scores aren’t accurate at all. There’s no standard – it’s almost done randomly. Her interrogation resistance is incredible, R told me that herself. But her other scores don’t reflect her skills well at all. Have you seen her fight?”

007 smirked. “Sent Yeager to Medical when I was there.”

Moneypenny’s eyes widened. “Agent Yeager? He’s got a score of 9. R told me he was one of the best fighters in the newest batch.” She narrowed her eyes at James. “Did you have something to do with that?”

007 raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Don’t look at me. I did nothing. Except for laugh.”

Q smiled. Of course, Bond would have laughed. “Like I said. She’s good. Yeager’s score outweighs hers, yet she beats him and others with his scores easily. It doesn’t add up.”

Bond sobered. “So what do you want to do?”

Q ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. I’ve told R to use a different training program than what we normally put the recruits through. So far it’s worked fairly well. But the others don’t always get along with her. I think that came to our attention when Agent Kim got hurt.”

“Yes, I thought I heard R mention something like that. What exactly happened?”

“We had R give a weapons demonstration to show how each of the different modifications works. Rosenberg was called to demonstrate the sonar feature, which sends a soft sound signal that changes based on the distance of the target. She had to be blindfolded to properly experience the effect of it. The other recruits thought it would be a good idea to sneak up behind her and scare her. They all jumped on her at once, tackling her to the ground.”

Bond interrupted, furious. “And no one stopped them?”

A wry smile crossed Q’s face. “They didn’t need to. Rosenberg fought back. She took out five of them relatively quickly, even though she was blindfolded. But the others got over their shock and started back in. Then Agent Kim got shot. He was paralyzed from the waist down. Guess they forgot she still had the gun. They all froze. She regained control and took the rest of them down. Then she turned to R, pulled off the blindfold, and said ‘The sonar works.’”

Moneypenny burst out laughing. “Of course she did. I see what you mean.” Q’s smile grew. “She could definitely upstage the old dog.” Q nodded in agreement, his nose wrinkling slightly.

James waved slightly to get their attention. “Hello. Still here.” At their smirks, he continued. “It’s not like we’ll have that problem for a while.” They laughed again.

A knock on the door had Q straightening his glasses and trying to stop laughing. “Come in.” He called, still giggling slightly. R opened the door and walked in, raising an eyebrow at the red-faced Quartermaster, Moneypenny and the slightly put-out 007.

“What are you all laughing about?”

007 grumbled. “Agent Rosenberg’s sense of humor.”

R brightened. Turning to Q, she smirked. “Did I tell you she turned him down when he did the standard ‘I’m James Bond’ routine?” Q looked at her in disbelief, before looking at Moneypenny who had dissolved back into snickers and snorts. He turned to 007 with a look of mock surprise on his face.

“Are you telling me that James Bond got rejected when he tried to flirt with an agent? My respect for her is growing by the minute!” He ducked as James threw a file at his head. “Rude.”

“Are we all done laughing at my expense?” James asked, exasperated. By now the others had finished laughing and were standing with - mostly - straight faces. “All joking aside, I think you’re right, R. She’s not what she seems.”

R nodded. “No. She’s not, and I think the others are starting to notice.” She turned to Q. “That’s partly what I came in to talk to you about.” At Q’s nod, she continued. “M’s coming to watch the next round of tests. There’ll be a sparring tournament. Valerie will have to take part.”

“We’ll have to talk to her beforehand. We can’t have her sending all the baby agents to Medical.” Q resumed typing on his computer. “I assume you all will be in attendance?”

Moneypenny nodded. “M will want me there.”

Bond agreed. “I think the rest of the Double-Ohs will take an interest in that. There’s already a wager going around on whose favorite is the best.”

Moneypenny snorted. “You’d better bet on Rosenberg.”

R and Q agreed. They all turned to leave, R shutting the door behind them. Q watched them for a moment, then went back to work. Agent Rosenberg. If she continued to stir up as much trouble as she was currently, she would have no trouble replacing Bond as 007.

* * *  
The day before the tournament, 006 was called out on an assignment. He stopped by Q-Branch on his way out to be outfitted for the mission and caught the tail end of a conversation between Q and 007. “I think Yeager will be up for it. His recovery is coming along very well,” 007 was saying.

“Are we debating who will win the tournament tomorrow?” 006 stopped and the table and tipped his head towards Q. “Shame I won’t be here for it.”

“Why, disappointed you won’t see your favorite get crushed again?” Bond said with a smile. Alec kicked him under the table.

“Not my favorite anymore. I’m thinking about Jones.”

“You’ll have to fight 003 for him.”

Q snapped his fingers to get their attention.

“Here you are, 006. Standard issue explosive, two-minute timer, fairly large blast radius.” Q pushed the kit across the desk towards Alec. “From what I’ve heard, the bets have expanded past the Double-Ohs and into the other agents. I don’t know why this test is so much more exciting this time around.”

“It’s because Mallory’s coming to watch. He rarely takes any notice of the agent’s training,” Alec remarked as he checked over the equipment, “I agree, though. It’s more hyped than you’d expect.”

  
“I guess there’s a lot of pressure on the agents to meet everyone’s expectations.” 007 glanced around. The minions were being careful to not listen to their conversation. “What with the legacy of people like you, Q, or us hanging around.” He shot Alec a look, who was not even trying to cover his snigger. “Or Agent Barker.”

“Again with this Barker.” Q sighed. “If I didn’t know better, 007, I’d say you were obsessed.”

“It’s not just me. Ask any of the senior agents. Ask Moneypenny. Ask Mallory, even. They all know who Agent Barker is. It seems the only one who doesn’t is you. There should be records somewhere.” 006 nodded in agreement before closing his kit with a snap.

“Well, everything seems to be in order. See you both in a few days.” Alec turned on his heel and walked out of Q-Branch. Q and 007 watched him go. They were all thinking the same thing. What was going to happen tomorrow?

* * *  
The next day, the Double-Ohs were standing in a group on one of the platforms overlooking the sparring mats. Mallory, Moneypenny, Tanner, and R were standing on another. Below them, the sixteen new recruits who had qualified were lined up with their backs to the mats, each looking straight forward and waiting for the instructor to assign them their order and partner. They were dressed down in workout clothes. Most of the recruits the Double-Ohs had singled out were either smirking, smiling confidently, or basking in the glory of their imminent win. Agent Yeager was fifth from the left, his mouth twisted up into a sneer, despite the bandage on his shoulder. Agents Smith and Wesson were somewhere about the middle, matching smiles on their faces. Agent Bradbury was the last on the right, and the agent on her other side was not-so-subtle in edging away from her. Seems their reputation had spread quickly among the group. The Double-Ohs were talking quietly among themselves, most of them betting on whom they thought would win. 004 nudged 007.

“It’s a good thing Alec isn’t here; his favorite is looking a little worse for wear. What happened?”

“From the looks of things, I assume he lost,” 007 smirked. No point in letting them know who beat Yeager if none of them had figured it out already. From the way Q and Moneypenny were smirking, Mallory had asked a similar question. Bond smiled. This was going to be fun.

“Alright, settle down!” A booming voice came from below, causing everyone to focus on the figure now striding up and down in front of the agents. The instructor was Instructor Briggs, and he was infamous for how hard he pushed the recruits and his ruthless training methods. Knowing this, the Double-Ohs exchanged a look. If Briggs was going to run this tournament, then it was likely most of the recruits would be in Medical by the end of it. Briggs spoke again. “The first one knocked out loses. Winners advance to the next round. The final round is followed by a proof test, to check if you truly deserve the win.” A proof test? What was that? Judging by the confusion on R’s face, she hadn’t been informed of this either. The recruits shuffled, none of them willing to speak up and ask. Briggs turned and withdrew a piece of paper from inside his jacket, unfolding it and reading the first pair of names off the list. “Agent Bradbury and Agent Benedyk!”

Agent Bradbury and the agent next to her stepped forward. The rest of the recruits turned and faced the mats as the two of them walked onto the mat and stood at opposite ends. Instructor Briggs pulled a whistle from his jacket and moved to stand in front of the line of agents. He blew it once, the sharp sound cutting through the silence. As soon as he heard the whistle, the agent opposite Bradbury was knocked to the floor. Bradbury landed on top of him, bludgeoning his head into the ground. The agent latched onto her wrist and hurled her off of him. He rolled over and tried to crawl away, but as he got to his feet, Bradbury’s foot connected with his skull, causing him to stagger and fall. She finished the job with a punch to his head. Briggs’ whistle sounded again. Bradbury traipsed off the mat, returning to her position at the end of the line. Her opponent was dragged off by two other agents and laid on a bench at the side of the arena. 005 beamed proudly down at Bradbury, who returned the look gratefully.

Briggs consulted his list. “Agent Yeager and Agent Jones!”

Yeager smirked. Jones was a slimmer agent, but they were very much the same height. He nodded once before facing Yeager. At the whistle, Yeager charged Jones who dropped him with a slug to the gut. Yeager rolled and swept Jones’ feet out from under him, crawling on top in an attempt to asphyxiate the agent. Jones struggled and flailed before landing a frantic slap on Yeager’s still bandaged shoulder. Yeager roared, fighting to pin Jones’ arm to the ground, but Jones dealt blow after blow to Yeager’s injury. The pain was evident on his contorted face. His grip began to loosen. As his hands fell away from Jones, he received a sharp cuff to the side of the head as Jones catapulted him over the mat and sent him to the floor with a clunk. The impact rendered him unconscious. Briggs blew his whistle. Jones walked carefully off the mat and stood next to Bradbury. Yeager, once again, was left to slump in the care of Medical. 007 smirked. Alec should be very happy he was on the mission instead of here. Otherwise, he’d be getting an earful from all of them.

“Agent Smith and Agent Wesson!” The two identical agents exchanged a look. A laugh rippled through the ranks as the two stood at opposite ends of the mat. The whistle blew, and the fight was on. Well, it was more of a choreographed dance. Both agents darted forward in a synchronized movement to intercept the other, stopping when they were only inches apart. They stood still for a minute, each trying to predict the other’s actions. Wesson swung a meaty fist at Smith, only to double over when Smith cut off his wind. Wesson retreated, Smith followed, pummeling his fists into Wesson’s stomach. Wesson lashed out blindly to try and get Smith to falter and break his pattern. Smith wove nimbly in and out of Wesson’s hits, but his leg gave out and dumped him at Wesson’s feet. Wesson placed his foot on Smith’s leg, eliciting a yelp as a sharp crack rang out. Smith’s head lolled on the floor as Wesson drove his elbow into Smith’s forehead. The whistle rang out. Wesson joined Bradbury and Jones as Smith joined Yeager and slumped down in defeat.

The brawls continued. Punnet, Alford, Newberry, and Hayden all came away victorious. The pile of injured bodies grew, many nursing black eyes, broken noses, or wrenched joints. The Double-Ohs were a good audience; clapping as the winner walked off the mat, groaning empathetically as each injury was dealt out. At last, there was only one pair left in the first round.

“Agent Maldonado and Agent Rosenberg!”

The Double-Ohs watched as a six-foot agent waltzed over to one end of the mat. 002 whispered: “There’s no way she’s going to win, is there?”

“Not likely,” came the reply. 007 turned to see 009 barely hiding a smile behind her neutral mask. “This should be quick.”

“But surely this isn’t fair! Surely she should be put against someone who has a similar skill level!” All the Double-Ohs turned to see Mallory arguing with R. “The object of this tournament is for each agent to pit themselves against people who will challenge them, not destroy them!”

“Sir, it’s all right, the recruits can handle it.” R was desperately trying to calm the distressed man. “We do have regulations about what kind of injuries are allowed and what aren’t.”

“That’s more for her than him, to be perfectly honest,” Moneypenny muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

“Very well. But I don’t want another Agent Kim. Do we know who was responsible for that?”

“Sir, let’s just continue?” R turned back to the mats, nodding at Briggs to carry on.

Briggs glanced at Agent Maldonado, who was standing confidently, arms crossed, then at Agent Rosenberg, her feet together and her hands at her sides. He hesitated slightly, then blew the whistle. Maldonado didn’t echo his reluctance. Rushing forward, he punched Valerie square in the chest. She fell. The entire audience winced. Maldonado continued his brutal assault, careful to avoid her head in order to prolong the experience and inflict pain for as long as he could. 007 frowned. Why wasn’t she fighting back? Based on how quickly she toppled Yeager, she possessed enough skill to finish him easily, so what was wrong? As if reading his thoughts, Agent Rosenberg turned her head and caught his eye. She held his gaze for a few long seconds. 007’s brow was furrowed in confusion. There was no pain etched on her features. Her expression was completely blank.

And then she winked.

Maldonado gave a shout of surprise as Rosenberg grabbed his arm and used it to vault on top of him. He stumbled backward, grabbing at her legs that were hooked under his shoulders. Her weight made him top heavy, his feet slipped on the mat and he landed hard on his side. Rosenberg rolled out from under him and stood with a few feet away as Maldonado struggled to his hands and knees and fought for breath. He looked up just in time to see stars as Rosenberg knocked him out cold. The arena was silent. Rosenberg looked over to Instructor Briggs who hastily blew the whistle. “There will be a ten-minute break until the next round.”

Moneypenny, Q, and R looked over at Mallory. He was standing exactly where they had left him. His eyes were wide open. “So that’s the famous Agent Rosenberg.”

“Yes, sir. As you can see, she can handle herself.” R said with a smile. She looked over at the Double-Ohs who were staring at them with looks of surprise that rivaled Mallory’s. She, Moneypenny, Q, and 007 all walked towards the door and left. 003 spoke first.

“I did not see that coming.”

* * *  
The recruits who were advancing on to the next round stood in the otherwise empty arena. Bradbury inspected her nails. Jones looked down at the floor. Wesson and Punnet were talking quietly in the corner. Hayden was helping patch up Yeager’s shoulder - again - and ducking Yeager’s attempts to get him to stop. Alford was standing with Newberry on the other side of the mats. They were inspecting the dent Yeager’s head had made when it hit the floor. Rosenberg was sitting cross-legged in the corner, her head bowed and her forearms balanced on her knees. Subconsciously, she began to gently rub her left forearm even though there wasn’t a mark on it. Bradbury noticed and walked over to sit beside her. “Good job, Valerie. Tiring Maldonado out before taking him down.”

“Thank you, M.s Bradbury. Benedek's strength is in his endurance. Nice thinking to take him out quickly instead of drawing it out.” Valerie looked over to where Alford and Newberry were guffawing loudly at the mark on the floor. “Wonder what they’re laughing at.”

“Probably the thickness of Yeager’s head.” Bradbury looked across at Valerie. “You know, you can call me Audrey if you want.”

Valerie dropped her head. “I just prefer calling people by their last names. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t. I’m just not used to people calling me ‘Ms. Bradbury’. Does that mean I have to call you ‘Ms. Rosenberg?'”

Valerie laughed. “No, Valerie’s fine. It’s just my habit.” She reached up and tightened her ponytail. “I guess we’ll have to go back into it in a few minutes, right?”

Audrey nodded. “Yeah, think so.” They watched the others for a few minutes in silence. “Who do you think they’ll put us against next?”

Valerie waited. “I’m not sure. 005 seemed proud of you.” She smiled at Audrey.

“Yeah. Imagine that. Little old me being recognized by a bloody Double-Oh.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve got the skill set to be one of them someday,” Valerie said quickly. Audrey laughed.

“Oh, stop. You’ll make me blush. You know, it’s funny. They’ve never shown any interest in us, then all of a sudden they’re picking favorites. 009’s got Smith and Wesson. 006 has – well had – Yeager. 004’s got Hayden. 002’s got Alford. 008’s got Newberry. 001’s got Punnet. 003’s got Jones.”

“005 has you,” Valerie broke in, “I guess they’re looking for who’ll fill their spot when they finally retire. If that ever happens.”

“001, 002, 003, 004, 005, 006, 007, 008, 009…” Audrey counted off on her fingers. “Wait. Who’s 007 got?”

Valerie smirked. “No clue.”

Audrey turned to her. “What do you mean ‘no clue’? Every Double-Oh has their eye on someone except 007, and you’re telling me you have ‘no clue’ who it is?”

“Hey! You two! Let’s go! Back into it!” Instructor Briggs barked. The rest of the recruits quickly got back into line. Valerie bounced to her feet and held out her hand to Audrey. She took it and pulled herself to her feet.

“Here we go.”

* * *  
“How the hell did she do that?” 003’s voice rang out over the din of the conversations taking place in the gun range. “She took him down like he was a bloody bowling pin.”

“Maldonado is almost as good as Yeager is. It’s a pity he got his shoulder hurt, I would’ve liked to see him go up against that kid,” 002 said, “still don’t know how that happened.”

“Maybe he got ganged up on. Shame, that’s just plain unfair. What was that Kim incident Mallory mentioned?” 004 said, “I don’t remember hearing about that.”

“Kim got paralyzed from the waist down. Said it happened in a bad fall,” 005 spoke up from a bit further down the range, “But I don’t think that’s what actually happened.” She frowned. “Mind telling the rest of the class what is so bloody hilarious?”

This comment was directed at Moneypenny, Bond, Q, and R, who were all sniggering. R piped up in between giggles. “Yeager got his shoulder dislocated two days before the tournament.” She dissolved back into laughs. Q took over.

“Apparently, he said it would heal before it actually did. And of course, now, he’ll be out for longer,” he snorted, “shame.”

“Do we know which agents did it? I’m sure 006 will want to talk to them for bringing his favorite down.” 004 took a step towards the door.

Moneypenny shot a glance at R, who nodded as best she could through her giggles. “Not agents, 004. Agent. One person.”

“One person? Was it you?” 005 glared suspiciously at Bond. “Just because you don’t have a pet baby agent you decide to take out someone else’s?”

“Why does everyone think it was me?” Bond asked. “Do I have a massive ‘I did it’ sign on my back?”

“Yes,” everyone said at once. Bond rolled his eyes.

“It actually wasn’t James this time,” Q said, “it was his ‘pet baby agent’ as you’ve so affectionately coined it.”

“And who is that? R, didn’t show us him, did you?” 008 said.

“Not him. Her. Her name’s Agent Rosenberg.”

Bond, Q, Moneypenny, and R all collapsed back into laughter at the incredulous expression on the rest of the Double-Ohs’ faces.

  
* * *  
“The next round will begin shortly.”

The Double-Ohs were back in the arena, standing with Mallory, Tanner, Moneypenny, Q, and R. The eight remaining agents were in a line facing Instructor Briggs. The competition was now down to the recruits who showed the most promise, as R said, and it was time for the traditional wager between the Double-Ohs on whose protégé would do the best. Moneypenny wrote down the figures. Briggs’ whistle brought them back to the mats. The first pair was about to be announced.

“Agent Bradbury and Agent Jones.”

The two took their places at the ends of the mat. 003 and 005 exchanged a glance. At the sound of the whistle, Jones and Bradbury sprang into action. Jones was quick to wrap his hand around Bradbury’s wrist and wrench her arm out of the way. Bradbury dodged his punch and dealt one of her own to Jones’ face. As he stumbled backward, he let go of her arm and allowed her to plant a kick in the center of his chest. He fell to the ground a few feet away. Bradbury strode towards him and just as she threw her punch, Jones rolled to the side and tripped Bradbury. She tumbled the ground and ended up on her back. Jones tried to get up but a kick sent his arm to the ground. Bradbury used the force of her kick to push herself to a kneeling position over Jones. A punch ended the fight. The whistle rang out as 005 took a step forward. Bradbury walked off the mat and over to where Rosenberg stood to watch. “Nice move, Ms. Bradbury.”

“Thank you, Valerie.”

As Jones was moved off the mat, Briggs stepped up to read the next pair of names. “Agent Wesson and Agent Punnet.”

The pair exchanged a look before nodding at Briggs. He motioned somewhat impatiently for them to take their places. Once they were situated, he blew the whistle. Wesson loped forwards, ready to engage Punnet, but to his surprise, Punnet simply backed out of range. He swung again, and Punnet continued to back away. This continued for some time, Punnet leading Wesson around the mat. As Wesson tired, Punnet began to fight back with small blows in between Wesson’s flails. It was working, Wesson was being thrown off balance. When Punnet kicked him in the ribs, he toppled over, gasping. It took Punnet one blow to knock him out. 001 joined 005 at the front after the whistle as Wesson joined Smith in the corner. The two Double-Ohs shared a smirk as the next pair was called.

“Agent Alford and Agent Newberry.”

As it turned out, it wasn’t much of a fair fight. Agent Alford had been smashed fairly badly in the head during the first round and had a mild concussion. Newberry avoided the few feeble punches thrown and swiftly bashed Alford to the ground. The whistle sounded and 002 rolled her eyes as 008 took a step forward. “That was hardly fair,” she grumbled.

“Well, he shouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first round then,” retorted 008.

Briggs’ voice stopped their squabbling. “Agent Hayden and Agent Rosenberg.”

Hayden had quite a weight advantage over Rosenberg, and used it in his favor, wrapping the smaller agent’s frame in a lethal grip. They fell on the ground, Hayden fighting to restrain Rosenberg. But what she lacked in size she more than made up for in speed. Within seconds of hitting the ground, Rosenberg squirmed out from under him and slammed his head down so hard on the mat it bounced three times. He lay still, groaning in pain. Quickly, Rosenberg flipped him onto his back and hammered her fist into his doughy face. The whistle sounded. 004 glared at 007 as he stood next to 008. “Damn. Thought Hayden had that one.”

“He did. For about three seconds,” 007 smirked.

The four semifinalists stood in front of Briggs. Bradbury, Punnet, Newberry, and Rosenberg. 005, 001, 008, and 007 stood similarly in front of the rest of the Double-Ohs. Mallory was conversing with R on the more intricate details of how the recruits were being trained. Moneypenny and Q were snickering at Yeager’s attempts to stand without wobbling. He fell back to his seat, taking Smith and Benedyk with him. Briggs was speaking in a low voice to the four recruits gathered in front of him. He finished and the agents returned it with a solemn “Yes, sir.” They all had looks of excitement on their faces, proud of making it this far. Bradbury glanced up to see 005 smirking proudly. She returned the look gratefully. Punnet and 001 exchanged a nod, focused on the fight ahead. Newberry beamed as 008 mouthed You got this. They were just like parents. Except these were at least ten times more intimidating and you tried twenty times harder to not disappoint them. Only Agent Rosenberg didn’t glance up to the balcony. Her eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall near the door. This didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the Double-Ohs. 004 snickered.

“Aww, look. Rosenberg doesn’t like you.” A few of the others chuckled. 007 kept his gaze on her. He watched Agent Bradbury gently push her shoulder, checking if she was okay. She barely nodded, keeping her gaze unfocused. 004 stood next to 007, leaning on his shoulder. “Maybe she’s not your baby agent after all. Shouldn’t you go be nice to her?” he asked in a mocking voice. As if she heard him, Valerie raised her head and stared at 004. She raised an eyebrow. 004 met her gaze, taking his hand off of 007’s shoulder. She jutted her chin forward. 004 raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and took a step backward. Once she had returned her eyes to their former position, Bond turned to look at 004.

“I’m sorry, you were saying?” He smirked. 005 knocked his elbow.

“Look, they’re starting again.”

Bradbury and Punnet were at opposite ends of the mat. The whistle signaled Bradbury’s attack. She latched onto Punnet’s hand and twirled it over her head. As she turned, she leveled Punnet’s arm into a hold that sent him flying over the end of the mat. He rolled to a standing position and swiveled so he was facing her again. Bradbury spread her arms wide, inviting him in. He leaped forward, attempting to tackle her to the ground. She dropped to the ground and rolled under him, easily evading his body propelling towards her. As she stood he ambushed her from behind, rushing up to try again. He gave a yelp of surprise as she locked her hands around his neck, still facing away from him, and sprung into the air. She threw her own body forwards, wrenching Punnet’s body with her. She slammed his head down on the mat hard, knocking him out. The whistle covered 001’s curse as she took a step backward. Bradbury took her place on the left side of Instructor Briggs as 005 shot R a proud look. 008 and 007 looked at each other. Newberry or Rosenberg would take the last place in the final.

Once their names had been announced, Rosenberg and Newberry stood opposite each other, eyeing the other one cautiously, sizing up their opponent. At the whistle, Newberry started forward but didn’t make it very far. Rosenberg had flipped forward and landed with both feet in the center of Newberry’s back. Newberry struck the ground with a muffled thump, all the wind gone from his lungs. As he lay there, Rosenberg grabbed a handful of his hair and drew his head back. She placed her other hand over his mouth and held it there. Her knees had a grip of iron as he frantically tried to free himself, becoming weaker the longer he had no air. The whistle echoed around the room as he finally went limp, 008 bumping against 007 harder than was strictly necessary as he took a step backward. Now only 005 and 007 remained in front of the group. Rosenberg and Bradbury stood on either side of Instructor Briggs, who had stepped forward to help Newberry off the mats. He looked at the two women briefly before raising his voice to address the onlookers.

“There will be another ten minutes before the final match.”

With that, the arena rapidly emptied, the other recruits assisting each other down to Medical’s station at the end of the gym. 007 and 005 looked down one last time at their respective recruits who returned the gaze with a sharp nod. As the door shut with a resounding clang, Audrey turned to Valerie.

“Well, once more into battle, my friend.”

  
“Except for that proof test Briggs mentioned at the start. Whatever that is.” Valerie looked at the door, expecting someone to burst in at any moment. “What do you think it will be?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like they’ll make us fight a Double-Oh, right?” Audrey laughed. “Or bring back someone like Agent Barker to give us a good thrashing.”

Perplexed, Valerie looked back to Audrey. “Who?”

Audrey’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “You’ve never been told? Apparently, Barker was the best agent England ever recruited. Trained by an enemy organization before he came to Six. At least until he disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Valerie interjected quickly.

“Yeah, went off the grid a few years back. No one’s ever found a trace of him since. Shame.” Bradbury looked back towards the door. “Would’ve liked to meet him.”

“Yeah…” Valerie’s voice was softer. She looked deep in thought. “Agent Barker, huh? Sounds like a challenge.”

“You have no idea,” Audrey agreed. Then she laughed. “But I don’t think we have to worry about something like that. Six can’t exactly hit the ‘Resurrection’ button, can they?”

Valerie laughed. “Of course not. Drink?”

“Thanks.”

  
* * *  
“Agent Bradbury and Agent Rosenberg.”

The entire gym was tense with anticipation. 007 and 005 stood frozen, side by side. The rest of the Double-Ohs were equally silent behind them. Tanner and Moneypenny were consulting the list of wagers made. Q and R were standing on either side of Mallory who had his hands on his hips. The other recruits had fought their way past Medical and were slumped on the other side of the mats, staring wide-eyed at the two women on the ends of the mat. When the whistle sounded, neither moved. They could have been statues. Tanner spoke in a hushed voice to R.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No sir,” she whispered back, “I think they’re just feeling each other out.”

Indeed, this seemed to be the case. Agent Bradbury suddenly sprinted forward and caught Rosenberg in a headlock. As she pushed her head towards the mat, Rosenberg clutched her arm tightly as she hefted her body onto Bradbury’s shoulders, freeing her head in the process. Bradbury dropped to the floor quickly, dislodging Rosenberg from her position on top and dumping her unceremoniously on the ground. As Bradbury stalked forward, Rosenberg tucked her head and shifted her weight onto her hands, moving her legs in a windmill as she stood. The two sparred for a while, each throwing, blocking, dodging, trying to get the other to drop her guard. Bradbury drew back slightly to drive a powerful hit towards Rosenberg who pivoted sideways and leaned backward to avoid the blow. She wrapped her hand around Bradbury’s wrist and flipped so her feet rested against Bradbury’s abdomen. Her body weight drove the agents into a flip, Bradbury landing hard on her back, her arm held tight by Rosenberg. She lay there panting as Rosenberg swiveled to a crouch and used the arm still in her grasp to lob Bradbury over her head. She met Bradbury’s head with a fierce strike. Bradbury fell to the floor with a lifeless flop. The whistle sounded as 005 gaped at 007. “How…”

He didn’t answer except to glance slightly behind them and then back at her. Muttering angrily, 005 took a step backward. Bond was left standing alone at the front of the Double-Ohs, watching as Valerie gently hefted Bradbury onto her shoulder and coaxed her into an empty seat amongst the other recruits. She turned back to Instructor Briggs and moved to leave the mats. She was surprised when he held up a hand to stop her and she stood in the middle of the mat in confusion. Briggs smiled and turned to look up at the audience.

“As you can see, Agent Rosenberg has survived the tournament. But she must be put to one last test before she can be declared the winner.” Briggs motioned to a group of people who stood in the shadows, waiting. When they came into the light, Bond realized it was eight of the instructors who worked with training the baby agents. R’s gasp and Q’s shout were clear indicators of their opinions on this idea. The instructors all approached the mat and positioned themselves around Agent Rosenberg who still stood staring at Briggs. He turned around to face her, the smile still wide across his face. “The rules change a bit for this last round. The match will end when Agent Rosenberg is unconscious…” He trailed off and his grin looked like it would split his face in half.

“Or when all of her opponents are.”

The recruits behind the mats exploded. Cries of protest and anger rang throughout the room, some standing and moving forward. The Double-Ohs began to mutter worriedly among themselves, conflicting opinions on whether or not this was fair, or even a good idea. Sure, keep the baby agents’ egos low, but not that low. Even Moneypenny murmured: “Is this wise?” Briggs held up his hands for silence.

“Despite your generous input, the fight will still happen.” He smiled at the frozen Agent Rosenberg, who wore an expression of careful neutrality. Her eyes were like burning embers. If looks could kill, it was safe to say Briggs would shortly be six feet under. As he brought the whistle up to his lips, Valerie clenched her jaw.

_Fine_ , she seemed to say. _If you want to play that way, then let’s dance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys are enjoying this


	3. The First Official Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the tournament, Rosenberg gest sent out on her first official mission. It doesn't really go as planned. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Bond and Moneypenny discuss the agent's skills and Bond's instincts begin to tell him something may be wrong about the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer still applies

The whistle sounded.

Rosenberg dodged quickly to avoid being crushed by one of the instructors lunging at her. She pivoted gracefully and swung astride another as he grabbed at her ponytail. She pressed her thumbs hard just under his ears, using his fall to cushion her impact with the ground. She rolled away from his limp body just to be hit by another instructor. Using his power as momentum, she threw him neatly to the ground, taking him out with a swift kick to the head. She dove at another instructor, landing on her hands and using her forward motion to ensnare the instructor’s torso in her legs and sent him sprawling. One instructor drew her focus with a series of brutal punches which she blocked while another wrapped his arms around her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. She used her core to swing her legs up, kicking one instructor off his feet and somersaulting over the one that held her. A strong punch took him out of the fight. The one she had kicked swept her feet out from under her and pushed her onto her back. Clutching his arms, she catapulted him over her head, causing him to collide with another instructor, leaving them both groaning. She felled a smaller, quicker instructor with a kick to the jaw. She stood, backing away carefully, looking over the carnage she had caused. And she didn’t see that her instructor had crept up behind her. He struck her hard at the back of the neck, smiling as she rolled over in pain. The other instructor she hadn’t brought down stood on the other side of her, smirking. The arena was dead quiet. The instructor laughed.

“Seems the student still has a few things to learn,” The other instructor joined in. Rosenberg looked up at them, her face blank.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Her voice echoed around the arena. “It might be that I’ve still got a few things to learn, but who will teach me? Clearly, it’s going to be more difficult.” Rosenberg blinked innocently up at the two men who loomed menacingly over her. The one on the right scoffed.

“Please. Training you will hardly be a challenge. I’ll do it myself.” The other instructor pushed his shoulder.

“You’re sorely mistaken. I’m clearly more qualified,” he said with a smug look.

“I highly doubt that.”

“Care to find out for yourself?”

The two men launched themselves at each other. One drove his fist into the other’s stomach. The retaliation was a swift jab to the ribs. They grappled for a few minutes before the first instructor who had spoken drove his elbow into his opponent’s groin. When the other was doubled over, he brought his head down hard onto his knee. As he fell to the floor unconscious, the instructor smiled. “Like I said,” he panted, “I’ve got the brawn to deal with this agent.”

“Mhm, that may be so, but definitely not the brains,” a chipper voice came from behind. He swung around just in time to see Rosenberg’s smirk as she knocked him to the ground. He landed with a thud.

Instructor Briggs’ whistle was nearly drowned out by the din of the onlookers. The other baby agents were yelling themselves hoarse. The Double-Ohs were clapping and cheering with unbridled enthusiasm. Even Mallory looked pleased. Moneypenny shot Bond a look. They both smirked at the instructors limping off the mat. Agent Rosenberg hadn’t moved. She was still standing with her hands at her sides, one foot slightly in front of the other. Bond looked at her, slightly out of breath, otherwise unaffected by what just happened. 005’s voice came from somewhere behind him.

“She and Bond are bloody identical. Bloody show-offs and always outsmarting the system.”

Bond smirked. She was better than he originally gave her credit for. She was speaking quietly to Instructor Briggs, who patted her once on the shoulder before helping the still groaning people off the mat. She looked up. 007 caught her eye. He glanced once in the vague direction of the door at the other end of the facility, then back at her. She nodded and turned to leave. Glancing at Moneypenny and Q, Bond pushed through the Double-Ohs and left the gym.

They met Agent Rosenberg as she was exiting the gym. Moneypenny darted forward and squeezed her shoulders.

“That was incredible, Valerie,” she exclaimed, “my name is Eve Moneypenny. I’ve wanted to meet you for a while now. It’s great to put a face to the name.”

“Likewise, Miss Moneypenny,” Valerie smiled tiredly, “it’s an honor to meet you.”

Q was busy looking her over. “You took out all of those agents and there’s hardly a scratch on you. How on earth is that possible?”

Valerie looked over to where Bond stood a few feet away, hands still in his pockets. A small smile crossed her face. “I just really hate going to Medical.”  
  
The Double-Ohs still in the gym could hear Bond’s laugh.

* * *  
There had been quite a lot of fuss in the weeks following the tournament. 006 came back to all the Double-Ohs turning their noses up at Yeager, no matter what he did. Because word travels fast, he was up to speed in no time. Whether he believed it was another matter entirely. Q had taken R aside and the two had decided it would be good for Agent Rosenberg to try training with some of the more senior agents once or twice a week. They too were surprised by her abilities, especially because her file hadn’t given an accurate overview of what she could do. But she was accepted by them at Six, and most of the agents got used to her presence on their training floors. She was also commonly found in Q-Branch; the minions had adopted her as one of them relatively quickly, it seemed she shared a lot of their - geeky - interests. Everyone seemed to accept the fact that Rosenberg was an exceptionally talented agent, and that she learned new skills very quickly.

Well, almost everybody.

“There’s no way. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a very good agent, but there’s no way she hasn’t done this before.” Bond paced the room in front of Moneypenny’s desk. The two had taken to hiding out here so they could discuss the matter alone. “She’s still hiding something.”

“I agree, but there’s no way we can prove it. We’ve looked at her file; the only weird thing is that redacted service record. I’ve done some digging, but I can’t find anything.” Moneypenny brought her hand back down onto her desk in a huff.

“Did you ask Q if he’s found anything?” Bond stopped in front of the door and stared at it as if willing Q to walk through it.

“I did. He’s trying. But Mallory says someone’s keeping him occupied with setting up this mission to gather intel from that crime ring over in Russia,” she sighed, “it’s like they want us to stop looking at Rosenberg.”

Bond smiled grimly. “And when have we ever done anything that Mallory tells us not to do?”

Moneypenny stood, closing a few windows open on her computer. “I’ve got to go get Tanner. He’s supposed to talk with Mallory about the next assignment.”

“Where is he?”

“Q-Branch.”

“I’ll come. I want to talk to Q.”

When they arrived, they found Tanner and Q talking in hushed voices in Q’s office. Tanner abruptly stopped when Moneypenny opened the door, but Q said: “It’s alright, they know.”

“Oh, thank God,” Tanner heaved a sigh of relief, “I tell you, Q, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Like what?” Bond said.

“Mallory’s considering sending Rosenberg out with Agent Garrett on the mission to Russia.”

“What?” Moneypenny and Bond asked at the same time, then looked at each other. Q smirked. Moneypenny was quicker to recover. “What makes him think that’s a good idea?

“Well, Garrett doesn’t work well with many people, but he’s taken to our little recruit rather quickly. And since this mission requires a team of two agents, Rosenberg seems like the best option.” Tanner fiddled with one of the prototypes of Q’s desk. “I’m concerned he hasn’t thought it through enough.”

“Of course he bloody well hasn’t. Just because an agent can do it here doesn’t mean they can do it in the field.” Moneypenny was fuming. “Has he even looked through her file?”

“Why,” Tanner asked curiously, “what’s wrong with her file?”

Moneypenny fell silent. Bond glanced over at Q, who nodded carefully. He sighed. “Moneypenny, Q, R and I are concerned that Agent Rosenberg may be hiding something.”

Tanner looked confused. “Like what?”

“In her file, she has a service record.”

“A service record? But she hasn’t been sent on any missions yet. What did it say she’s done?”

“That’s the thing. It’s been redacted.”

“Redacted?” Tanner looked at Q. “Is this true?”

“Yes, sir. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find her records anywhere else in the system. I’ll keep looking,” Q sighed and went back to typing. “You three better go. Mallory’s expecting you, Tanner, and I’m fairly certain R will be here before too long.”

Tanner shook his head in disbelief. “You’d better come in with me to see M. Maybe you can help me talk some sense into him.”

“Somehow I don’t believe we’ll be able to change his mind,” Bond muttered as they left. The three of them walked into Mallory’s office to see him arguing on the phone.

“With all due respect, I don’t care if the Queen herself has ordered against it. These agents are under my control and I will assign their duties as I see fit. Good day, sir.” With a clang, Mallory slammed the phone back down onto the receiver. Sighing, he turned to face Tanner, Moneypenny, and Bond, who were all politely avoiding his gaze. “Yes?”

“You asked to see me, sir?” Tanner prompted.

“Ah, yes.” Mallory collapsed back down into his chair. “I understand you had some hesitance to send Agent Rosenberg on the next mission.”

“Well, I’m just not sure if she’s ready for it. She’s still relatively inexperienced when it comes to field work,” Tanner started.

“Or is she?” Bond interrupted. Mallory and Tanner looked at him. “Why does her file have a redacted service record?”

Mallory looked angry. “Because her file has a redacted service record. It’s beyond your clearance why I think she’s qualified.”

Bond smiled. “So then you don’t know.”

Flustered, Mallory stood, leaning slightly over the desk. “Look, it’s of no importance. She came highly recommended through my connections. When I read her file all it said was she had a lot of potential and was willing to work hard to do her best. So far she’s lived up to that. And I think she’s ready.”

“Sir, are we sure she’s ready to handle the stakes of a real mission? She’s done well in practice missions, but that’s what they are. Practice,” Moneypenny spoke up, “and what about defending her partner? She needs to learn you can’t just restart if it’s going badly.”

“Somehow I don’t feel like that’s the main issue here,” Bond said with a smirk. “I’m concerned with how she’ll react when things go south.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Tanner muttered.

“I’m serious. An operation going to plan is one thing. But the mark of a good agent is how well they react when things fall apart.” Bond had a point. “And let’s be honest. These types of missions have a tendency to go wrong. Very, very wrong.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Garrett is good under pressure; I’m sure Rosenberg will follow his lead if it becomes necessary.” Mallory ran a hand over the files sitting open on his desk. “I’ve brought the matter up with some other people who’ve expressed similar opinions. But I think it’s worth the risk.” With that, he waved them out and went back to work.

“Like I said,” Bond blurted as soon as the door had clicked closed, “there’s no way she can pull this off.”

“Give the kid the benefit of the doubt. It’s not like she’s straight up irresponsible, she’s just new.” Moneypenny slumped back into her chair behind her desk. “I guess we’d better get ready for the mission.”

Bond looked at Tanner for support. All he got was a defeated shrug and a sigh. Frustrated, Bond turned on his heel and walked out. He was at war with himself. He liked Agent Rosenberg, she was a good agent with a killer sense of humor. She deserved as much of a chance as anyone else. But his rational side demanded caution. A tip from a ‘connection’? That was Mallory’s basis for sending her out? His thoughts were jumbled, sporadic. His feet beat a fast pace down the corridor.

_She can’t do it._

Why not?

_She’s not ready. Since when do we send out recruits fresh out of the arena that quickly?_

Since when do recruits take down that many agents that easily?

_Doesn’t matter. All you’ve seen is how she reacts in a controlled environment where there’s a no-fatality guarantee. You know first-hand the field is a lot worse._

So she’d better learn fast. Even Garrett thinks she can cut it, and he barely works well with anyone.

_Maybe Garrett’s just looking for someone to blame when the mission goes sour. And you know it will. What if she gets killed?_

So? Anyone who signs up for this line of work knows the risks. Rosenberg knows what to do in the event of capture. Her interrogation resistance is good enough. And she’s smart enough to know not to spill any information.

_Not if she’s working with the people who capture her._

Bond stopped in his tracks. A petite agent working in HR ran smack into him. She stammered out a meek apology and scurried away. Bond didn’t even hear her. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility until it just came out.

_Think about it. Redacted service record, incredible skills, makes friends with the most unlikely people. What would you call that kind of person?_

Perfect for infiltration. The perfect double agent.

_And she’s about to be sent out on a reconnaissance mission with an agent who is notoriously unpopular. Most people would probably be secretly happy if he didn’t make it back._

Bond strode forwards, ignoring the strange looks from the agents working on the floor. He had to talk to Agent Garrett.

* * *  
“What do you mean ‘watch out for Agent Rosenberg’? Have you seen her fight?” Agent Garrett tossed the towel he was holding into the bin by the door. 007 had cornered him as he exited the changing room after his training.

“All I’m saying is maybe reconsider taking her with you. She’s not the new recruit you think she is.” Bond pinned Garret in place with his stare. “There’s something different about her.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Garret laughed nervously as he maneuvered around 007, “I’ll look after her, don’t you worry.”

Bond’s arm shot out and barred Garret’s path. “I’m not asking for her.” His voice was dangerously low. “I’m telling you for your sake.”

“Got it.” Garrett ducked slowly under his arm. “Don’t take my eyes off of her. Will do.”

Bond watched him walk off. He shook his head. He knew Garrett hadn’t taken him seriously. This wasn’t going to end well at all.

* * *  
As it turned out, he was right as usual.

The mission was supposed to run smoothly. They were undercover as a couple in town for a ballet performance - somewhat stereotypical - and were staying in the room directly over the target’s. The plan was to have Rosenberg stand guard in their room while Garrett hopped down the balconies and infiltrated the target’s room to steal the intel. Well, somehow, Garrett ended up dead on the floor of the target’s room and Rosenberg was forced to flee. It was unclear why Rosenberg hadn’t stopped whoever killed Garrett, but she had escaped unharmed. Mallory was furious. Their target was gone without a trace, the crime ring was alerted and on guard, and Garrett was gone.

“So let me get this straight. Your partner is dead, the target is gone, you’ve come back with no intel, and you have no reason for why you didn’t even try to stop his killer?” Mallory was pacing up and down in front of his desk. Agent Rosenberg stood with her hands behind her back, her head bowed slightly. Yet surprisingly, her voice came out strong as ever.

“I’ve told you my reason sir, and –” Mallory slammed his fist down hard on the table, cutting her off. Rosenberg chided herself internally for the way she flinched at the noise.

“I’ve heard your bloody excuse and frankly, I find it unacceptable. You’ve humiliated me in front of the entirety of MI6 and the British Government. Do you have any idea how much I vouched for you? I stood up for you when many others at this agency would’ve been much better choices. You’ve let me down, Agent Rosenberg. And you’ve let down MI6.” Mallory turned around abruptly. “Now leave.”

Agent Rosenberg looked up. “Sir – “

“I said leave.”

She shut her mouth. Spinning around, she almost ran into Bond as she left. Bond watched her go before glancing once at Moneypenny, who rolled her eyes. As he shut the door, he turned to Mallory, who sat aggressively paging through the mission report. “Trouble?”

“As much as I hate to say this, you were right. She didn’t handle it well when the whole thing came to a head. Garrett went down to interrogate the target and never came back up.”

“Garrett is dead? Rosenberg did nothing to help?”

Mallory let the mission report flop back down. “According to her, she never had the chance.”

“And what does that mean?”

“She claims she fell asleep.”

The room was so quiet you could hear Moneypenny typing outside. Bond and Mallory stared at the man across from him, Mallory’s eyes seething with barely contained anger and exasperation, Bond’s full of unhidden disbelief and rage. When the silence finally ended, 007’s voice could have made an entire team of enemy agents turn tail and run.

“She…fell…asleep?”

“Yes. Sounds like the oldest excuse in the book, doesn’t it?” Mallory leaned back in his chair. “See now I can’t decide if she’s just too proud to admit she couldn’t stop them or if she was too scared to intervene.”

“Or if she helped take Garrett out.” Bond’s fists were curled at his sides. He was fighting to stay calm and be rational, take every side into consideration, give Rosenberg a fair assessment. But his instincts were yelling at him to take action.

Mallory slowly leaned back forward. His eyes were fixed on Bond’s face. “What?”

“Agent Rosenberg could be a double agent.” Bond’s voice was brisk, cutting through the air between them like a knife.

“What on earth makes you think that?”

“Her unexpected skill in training exercises. Her ease with befriending those otherwise best left alone. Her redacted service record.” It was getting harder for Bond to be rational. “The fact that she was only brought to your attention by a ‘connection’. The weakness of her alibi.”

Mallory’s face turned white. His mouth was open slightly. His hands gripped the arms of his chair in a deathly hold. His voice was weak, quivering. “Bloody hell. I’ll look into it.” He looked close to a breakdown. “Thank you, 007.”

“With your permission, sir, I’d like to talk to her.” Mallory looked up. Bond’s face was deadly serious. “Maybe I can find out a bit more about what actually happened.”

The man nodded slowly. “Keep her alive.” That was it. By the ashen hue of his skin, it was clear this conversation was over.

“Good day, sir.”  
Bond turned and walked out, ignoring Moneypenny’s puzzled look as he left. His mind was in full tactical mode, deciding and eliminating possible courses of action. As he walked over to the lift, he tugged his cuffs down and smiled grimly.

Time to go to work.

* * *  
Crack.

Valerie lowered the gun and adjusted the goggles balanced on her nose. The paper target was unscathed apart from a small hole just below the right shoulder. She checked her sights and aimed again.

Crack. Just below the jaw.

“Trouble, Agent Rosenberg?”

She turned. 007 was leaning carelessly up against one of the pillars at the back of the range, suit as immaculate as ever. Valerie’s hand twitched. She hadn’t heard him come in. “Sorry?”

He motioned to her hands, still holding the gun. “Aim a little off?” He came forward to look at her target. “Seems so. Are you alright?”

She glanced up at him. He stared back at her, face a mask. She shook herself a little. “Y-yes. Yes, I’m alright. Just a bit unsettled by Agent Garrett’s death, that’s all.” She busied herself with checking her gun. Why would 007 be asking about her health?

“It’s odd.” She felt him step up beside her. “Normally one isn’t affected by events they’ve expected.” Her hands froze. She turned her head slowly, looking up at the agent standing barely a few feet away. His expression was still unreadable.

“I’m sorry, what? Sir?” Unintentionally, her hand slowly began rubbing her left arm.

Bond cast one last look at the target before turning to face the agent. “I mean, it’s not normally uncommon for an agent to react badly to the death of a partner, but I must admit in this case I was expecting you to be in a much better mood than this.” His gaze momentarily darted downwards before returning to her face. “Is your arm alright?”

Valerie glanced down, somewhat alarmed that she hadn’t noticed she was rubbing her arm. She bit her lip anxiously as she forced her hands back to her sides and gingerly placed the gun in her grasp down on the small table next to her. When she looked back up, she noticed Bond had moved a step closer. She fought the urge to step backward. “Are you implying I had something to do with Agent Garrett’s death?”

“I’m saying I have a hard time believing that you fell asleep on the mission.” Bond moved so he was less than a foot in front of Valerie. “But why would you lie to M? To me? To all of us? Surely you’ve got nothing to fear from telling the truth?” He took another step forward, and this time Valerie did step back, not far, but enough. “So what happened, Valerie?” No answer. Her stare broke momentarily and she lowered her head for a minute. Bond waited. The tension was so thick it almost felt like it was taking physical form, holding everything perfectly still in time. The silence was deafening. After what seemed like an eternity, Valerie raised her head, and her voice shook a little as she spoke.

“Look, all I can remember is going back to the room around seventeen hundred and looking over the target’s file. A little after twenty hundred, I secured the door while Garrett checked in with someone over the earpiece. Said he was confirming the final plan for getting the intel. Then he went off to the balcony. The next thing I knew, it was morning, and someone downstairs was screaming. I looked through the peephole on the door and saw police swarming the building. I gathered the files and what little of Garrett’s equipment that I could and jumped off the balcony. I made it to the rendezvous point and came straight back. I wasn’t followed. No-one tailed us to the hotel. I don’t know what happened to Garrett. I just know it wasn’t me,” she finished, breathing a bit more heavily than normal.

Neither of them moved. Valerie stared up at 007, who still made no move. She didn’t flinch again, though she fell back to slowly rubbing her arm. He kept up the staring contest a bit longer, giving her another chance to defend herself. When she didn’t, he looked her up and down before finally speaking.

“Next time choose your cover story better. Leave less of the story up in the air.” He turned swiftly and made his exit. He glanced once more over his shoulder to see she had turned her head to see him go. “And get that arm looked at.”

Valerie watched him go, before looking back down and clenching her right hand into a fist. She didn’t jump again when the door swung shut with a sound that made the whole range echo. She remained that way for some time, not even breathing. With no warning, her arm shot out and grabbed the gun from the table. Without moving her gaze from the ground, she pointed it down the range and began to fire. She pulled the trigger repeatedly, not affected by the loud discharges of the rounds. She never stopped until the next time she pulled the trigger there was no sound. She looked up slowly, the cracks of the shots she had just made still ringing in her ears. With careful, controlled movements, she withdrew the mag from the gun, racked back the chamber to check there was no round still in the barrel, and silently placed the gun and mag back onto the table. She slid the glasses off of her face and folded them neatly next to the gun. When she pushed the door handle to exit the range, she glanced once more back at the target down the range. Her nerves quieted when she saw the results of her blind firing. The door swung closed with a small sound behind her.

007 waited for her to leave from the shadows of a station a few rows down. When the door had finished closing, he turned his attention to the station she had been using. He looked at the way she had laid out her equipment, practically textbook in its precision. He reached out and rested his hand on the grip of the gun. Still slightly warm. He was about to leave when he caught sight of her target. What he saw made him stop and stare. He frowned slightly. He reached over and pressed the button to bring the target closer.

There was hardly anything left of the target’s chest or head. 15 kill shots in total.

* * *  
“So she’s told you the same thing she told me.”

Bond had just finished recounting his story to Mallory, leaving out the part about Rosenberg’s blind shooting. The director was sitting behind his desk, his weight propped up by the sides of his chair. Moneypenny, Q, and Tanner were all standing around the room. Mallory must have informed them of their suspicions. Q shook his head.

“Seems our hesitance to send the agent out may have some merit after all. I would never have thought that little Valerie Rosenberg would sell us out.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I knew something was a bit off, but not this. Never this.”

“None of us did. That’s what makes her so perfect for it. She’s the ideal weapon, small, unassuming. And even now we don’t have concrete evidence that she is a double agent,” Tanner spoke up from where he was leaning against M’s door. “She’s good. I’ll give her that much.”

“But surely there’s some other explanation?” Moneypenny’s voice came from near the window. “Did someone else take her place? Could it have been someone else in that hotel room?”

“No, it was definitely her. Our other operatives in Russia confirmed it was Rosenberg in there with Garrett,” Tanner interjected quickly.

“Could she have been drugged?” Moneypenny tried, “Medical did a full check-up when she came back, maybe there’s something in there we missed?”

“I’ve checked already.” Bond’s voice sounded tired. “The only thing they found out of the ordinary was that she had a small swelling next to her throat. But no poison or sedative was detected in her bloodstream.”

Moneypenny was at a loss for words. Bond looked around to see Q and Tanner wearing similar expressions of helplessness. Mallory cleared his throat.

“So what now?” Moneypenny sounded crestfallen.

Mallory shifted back in his chair. “Now we wait. If she lets you, talk to her. Find out what you can. Watch her carefully. Keep her on a tight leash. And figure out how the hell to stop her if we need to.”

* * *  
Valerie flipped her body over the bar, pushing herself into a handstand. She held it for ten seconds before bending her arms and hooking her chin over the bar as her body fell forwards. She stayed like that for a minute before pushing her arms out and holding herself in midair. After a few more seconds, she relaxed and dropped to the floor. She grabbed the water bottle on the mat next to her and took a big drink.

“Agent Rosenberg? May I speak to you for a moment?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again she turned to see Q standing a few mats away. He looked slightly rumpled like he hadn’t slept properly in a few days. Which was probably true. She forced a smile onto her face as he approached. “Of course, sir. How may I help you?”

Q stopped in front of her. The bags under his eyes were even more evident up close. He hesitated a minute before speaking. “About the mission, you were sent on a few days ago…”

Valerie’s shoulders drooped. Another interrogation, it seemed.

“Which Q-Branch technician was outfitting you and Agent Garrett when you came to collect your equipment?”

Valerie’s brows crinkled. That wasn’t the question she’d been expecting. Based on Bond’s accusations from yesterday, she’d anticipated a question about the mission itself, not about the people in charge of it.

“Um, Agent Shaw.”

“And who was overseeing your mission?”

“Well, I never spoke directly to them, Garrett insisted on being the one to maintain contact. He told me it was someone called Clay Holt.”

Q nodded once. He looked her over once more before bidding her good day and taking his leave. He met Bond on his way back to Q-Branch. “Anything?”

Bond shook his head. “Range was clean. Talked to Bradbury, nothing suspicious there. The other Double-Ohs are still looking over the recruits. 006 is butting heads with 005 over the claim of Bradbury, she’s quite good with improvised explosives. Seems they don’t want a repeat of the tournament next time around,” he smirked, “but somehow I doubt this will ever happen again.”

Q nodded.

“Rosenberg is unique in this batch. Lucky for us.”

“What about you? Any luck?”

“I got the name of the minion who briefed Rosenberg thinks briefed her and Garrett before they left and oversaw the mission,” Q said as they entered Q-Branch. He went straight to his office and collapsed into his chair. Bond watched him with a smirk. Q looked up, his glasses slightly askew. “I’m going to need an expensive bottle of wine once this thing blows over.”

Bond reached over and gently straightened Q’s glasses. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Q smiled before sitting up and typing rapidly on his computer. His brow wrinkled. “Huh. That’s weird.”

“What is it?” Bond came to stand behind Q.

“This is Holt’s mission report. He was controlling Rosenberg’s mission. It says he gave the order to go dark around nineteen hundred and thirty. What time did Rosenberg say she heard Garrett confirming the plan?”

“Around twenty hundred.”

Q sat back with a thump. “Well that’s a bit strange, isn’t it?”

Bond agreed. With a few more clicks, Q brought up the audio files stored on the earpiece data bank. Pulling up a chair, Bond sat down at Q’s elbow. They sat in silence, listening to the recordings of the conversations between Garrett and Holt. They both rolled their eyes at the not-so-clever puns - even though some of James’ pick-up lines were much worse - and smirked when Garrett complained about Rosenberg’s ‘snarkiness’. The order to go radio silent was followed by a clipped acknowledgment. Bond leaned back in the chair and stretched.

“Well, that leads us nowhere,” he sighed, looking at the door. “What now?”

Q motioned for him to be quiet. When Bond shot him a quizzical look, Q pointed at the screen. “There’s one more file left on a different frequency,” he whispered, “it’s not in Holt’s record.” James fell silent once more. Q paused the playback when the door opened, relaxing when he saw it was Moneypenny. He pressed play and motioned for her to join them. Together they bent closer to hear the message. Garrett’s voice came quietly through the speakers.

“Exchange will take place in ten minutes. Have teams prepare to take Intel when it is received. Liability has been disabled.”

The recording ended with a sharp click.

Bond looked at Q. Q looked at Moneypenny. Moneypenny looked at Bond. Then they all looked back at the computer. The Rosenberg issue just got a whole lot messier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot is gonna start happening now
> 
> i hope you guys are enjoying this


	4. The First Un-Official Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MI6 suffers the fallout of Rosenberg's first mission. Bond goes out to investigate something turned up, but his mission goes sideways as well. 
> 
> Rosenberg comes to rescue him.

Moneypenny broke the silence. “Bloody hell.”

Q huffed. “No kidding. Who on earth was Garrett talking to?”

“No idea.” Bond stood, tugging on his cuffs. “So maybe Valerie was telling the truth. But then what happened?”

Q sat back. “As you said, no idea. What should we do?”

Bond looked at Moneypenny. “Let’s keep this between us for now, just to see how things play out.” He walked over to Moneypenny and opened the door. “But right now, we’ve got to go make sure Mallory doesn’t blow a gasket.”

“Nothing to report, sir,” Bond announced as he waltzed into M’s office. Moneypenny followed behind him, carefully shutting the door after Tanner as he left. Mallory looked up, his face covered with more wrinkles than 007 could remember.

“Nothing at all?”

“No sir,” Moneypenny said, standing next to James, “Q hasn’t found anything either.”

“Well, it seems I win for this round.” Mallory pushed his chair back and stood, passing 007 a file which he took after a brief moment of hesitation. “One of our operatives recovered this from Garrett’s equipment. It appears that someone planted this in his kit.”

Bond opened the file to reveal pictures of a small raffle ticket from someplace called The Hotel Royalton. It also contained photographs of a structure bearing the same name. He looked back at Mallory.

“You’ll be going to Berlin to go to an event much like the one where they last gave these out, according to someone who works there. Q will make sure you have everything you need. You leave tomorrow.”

He abruptly sat down and starting looking through assorted documents on his desk. Moneypenny and Bond glanced at the door, then each other. Apparently, that was their cue to leave. Moneypenny shrugged and opened the door. Bond walked through and sat on her desk, looking through the file. Moneypenny sighed and sat down in front of her computer, clicking through various notifications that had popped up on the screen. Bond stared at the file a bit longer before slamming it down in exasperation. Moneypenny looked up and him and raised her eyebrows. Bond stood and began pacing. Again. Moneypenny rolled her eyes. There would be a groove in the floor if this kept up for much longer. When Bond failed to explain why he was in such a foul mood, she stopped typing and folded her hands on the desk in front of her, looking at the angry Double-Oh. Once he noticed her looking at him, Bond stopped and rubbed his forehead.

“What is going on?” he exclaimed in exasperation.

“You’ll have to be a tad more specific, I’m afraid.” Moneypenny cocked her head to the side.

“The entire hierarchy of this agency has gone completely bonkers.”

“I’ll still need a bit more detail if you wouldn’t mind.”

“One second we don’t care about the new agents, then I’m suddenly flying to Berlin because of one of them?”

Moneypenny smiled. “Are you suggesting that you’re involved in the case just because of your interest in little Miss Valerie?”

Bond turned to look at her. The look on his face made her laugh. “Oh please. What on earth did you think I was going to say?” she smirked. “The rest of the Double-Ohs are talking about it too. You’ve taken to the recruit. She and you have the same sense of humor. The same skill set. The same tendency to break the rules and get into trouble. The same burning desire to avoid Medical.”

Bond laughed. “You lot must be incredibly bored if that’s what you find interesting. Agent Rosenberg and I may be similar, but that’s all. And as you know, what you’re implying never lasts more than a few weeks. Look at the facts, Miss Moneypenny, and tell me what you think.” Moneypenny considered his point. It was true. The women Bond met did seem to have a shorter lifespan. Vesper Lynd. Madeleine Swann. Both had passed relatively soon after meeting Bond. But neither had Valerie’s spunk. Or skills.

“I’m not suggesting that you develop a closer relationship with the kid. I’m not saying you should avoid her. I’m just pointing out that your lifestyle has a large portion of it dictated by violence and secrets. The women you meet will likely conform to the same pattern. You, in particular, seem to gravitate towards someone just as lethal as you. And they get dragged into the crazy hurricane of a life governed by lies. This time, Valerie’s already at the center. So make sure neither of you hit the ground too hard once the wind stops blowing.”

Bond smirked. “Is this your version of the ‘break her heart and I’ll kill you’ speech?”

Moneypenny’s face was completely serious. “Of course not. Break her heart, and she’ll kill you herself.”

* * *  
Q looked up. Bond was weaving in between the minions darting all over Q-Branch. When he finally reached Q’s desk at the back, he looked slightly out of breath. “Busy morning?”

“You have no idea. Tanner told me last night to prep the tech for your mission. That’s hardly adequate time. Luckily,” Q gestured around, “I have people to help me do things around here.”

“Yes, your faithful minions.” Bond glanced behind him. “So, what are we working with this time?”

Q produced a slim black case from under the table and slid across to Bond. “Standard Walther coded to your palm print. Do try to return it in one piece, they are so tedious to perfect. Earpiece, only accessible to me. Should prevent a repeat of Garrett’s, erm, incident. Trackers, embedded in cufflinks. Undetectable by any standard scanners. And -” he withdrew an envelope from his desk drawer - “tickets to Berlin and passport, all under a new alias.”

“Christmas came early,” Bond said as he closed the case. Picking it up, he looked at Q. Q ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Do take care of yourself, James. Give me one less thing to worry about.”

“Will do, darling. Check in with you when I land.” Bond turned and walked out of Q-Branch, dodging minions left and right. Q watched him go, shaking his head. Rosenberg had walked out in much the same way. But surely nothing would happen to James. He was a bloody Double-Oh, for crying out loud. He would be fine.

Absolutely fine.

* * *  
The neon lights shone brightly on the street, rendering the hotel in varying shades of yellow, green, and blue. The doorman thought it looked a bit gaudy if he was completely honest. He sighed, longing for a cigarette. Unfortunately, he couldn’t smoke when he was on duty. Fortunately, his shift was almost over. It was ridiculous, he thought. Who checks into a hotel this late at night? He was about to duck back inside when a sleek grey car pulled up in front of the hotel. He blinked once, then remembered his job and shuffled forwards to open the door. The tall man who got out was impeccably dressed and tossed him the keys. He caught them and looked up in confusion. The man smiled.

“Park in der Rückseite. lassen Sie die Schlüssel an der Rezeption.” Park in the back. Leave the keys at the front desk.

The doorman hurried to reply. “Jawohl!” Yes, sir!

He scuttled over to the car and gently eased the car into the parking space. He didn’t stop to wonder why the man had no bags. He was too entranced by the car.

Bond walked into the front, sliding across the reservation for the room in the corner nearest to the fire escape. Once he received his key, he walked slowly to the lift and winked at the camera inside. “I’m in, Q.”

His Quartermaster’s voice came through the earpiece. “Yes, I can see that. There will be a party in the main ballroom in twenty minutes. I’ve looked over the guest list, but there’s no one who stands out.”

Bond nodded once. “Any more news on the problem back home?” he asked in a lower voice.

Q sighed on the other end. “No. Mallory’s too focused on looking over some office politics with someone over at MI5. Something about ‘a bigger issue’. Moneypenny’s trying, but Valerie’s been distant lately. I know we’re the ones who brought it up, but I don’t think she’s responsible for whatever happened in Russia.”

“I feel the same. She’s still not telling us the full story, but I do believe her about what happened with Garrett. I’ve met the kid. I interrogated her. She’s a strong woman, a good agent. She’s not that kind of devious. She’s on our side. The question is what to do now,” Bond sighed. “Guess I’ve got a party to crash.”

“Do your worst, 007.”

Half an hour later, Bond walked into the ballroom. Quickly, he looked around. “Two exits, almost no blind spots.” He glanced up. “And you’ve got a few viewing angles.”

“Fabulous.” A few clicks sounded from Q’s end. “I’ve got eyes on you. I can’t see one end of the bar. Do try and avoid it.”

“Will do.” Bond walked over to the bar and got the attention of the bartender. The heavyset man lumbered over.

“What will it be, sir?” He asked in broken English.

“Vodka Martini, shaken not stirred.” When it arrived, Bond lifted towards the camera in a mock toast. He imagined Q returning it with his half-empty mug of Earl Grey. He grimaced as he took a sip. Not the best he’s ever had, but not the worst. Turning, he began to survey the rest of the party goers. Most of them were dressed similarly in suits and expensive dresses. Many of the couples seemed shy of the others, even going so far as to avoid making eye contact. A few single men and women roamed the floor, helping to ease the tension between the couples who seemed to be at odds. Bond narrowed his eyes. “Are you seeing this, Q?” he murmured into his drink. He made a face again.

“Yes. I don’t know what they’re doing. But they all seem to be frequenting the one corner I can’t see.” Bond could hear Q’s frustration.

“Shame.” He set the glass back down on the counter and casually walked over to the end of the bar. There was a small table set up with a small box on the end of it. As Bond watched, one couple walked up and placed a wad of cash on the table and slid it across to the man sitting on the other side. He nodded and placed it in the box. From inside his jacket, he produced a single ticket and passed it to the couple. They took it and hurried away. “There’s a man giving out those tickets for a substantial price, but it doesn’t say what they’re for.”

“I think we’re about to find out.”

Q was right. Someone had stepped up in front of the crowd and was raising their hands for silence. As the people calmed, 007 moved slightly back to see the whole room. The man at the front spoke in a booming voice that didn’t fit with his small pudgy appearance.

“Alright, ladies and gents! Let’s get this show on the road.” His smile disarmed most of the crowd, who relaxed and sat down. “As you know, the tickets are good for tonight only, and your use of them will guarantee you will get a certain item. If two people use a ticket on the same item, the ticket and their entire supply of cash will be added up to determine the winner and taken as payment. So, choose wisely, and make sure you know what you want!” The man turned and reached into a box behind him on a small podium. “First up, flask carried by Herr Himmler during the Third Reich!”

“It’s an auction,” Bond said, “they’re using the tickets as power.”

“And they’re only showing items to people who are not known for their kindness.” More clicks filled 007’s ear. “These couples have been reported by their neighbors, arrested by police, brought in by the government because of their views. I can see why. Some outrageous ideas have come out of the people in that room.”

Bond smirked. “Half of HR belong here.”

“Hush. These conversations are recorded, as you know.”

The auction continued for some time. Some were paying with money, some with their tickets. Those who used the tickets collected their items immediately and left. Soon the crowd was down to only half a dozen single people and around eight couples. The auction seemed to be winding down as well. “And now, for our last item.” The announcer turned to the box and pulled on a pair of spotless white gloves. Slowly, he reached into the box and withdrew a glass vial filled with some clear liquid. The audience began to whisper and shuffle. The announcer raised his hands to calm them.

“Settle down! Settle down! I know you’ve all been looking forward to this moment. This vial contains the newest formula created by our friends at the top, and will successfully fill a room with enough cyanogen to drop a raving bull!” He laughed. “Let’s open the bidding!”

“Permission to stop this now?” Bond muttered as the price rose quickly.

“I’ve locked down the ventilation system and evacuated the rest of the people. Give them hell, 007.”

“Gladly.”

The announcer shouted in surprise as Bond tackled him from behind, knocking him out and wrenching the vial out of his grasp. The crowd gasped as he swung around to intercept the two muscular guards who had sprung up, seemingly out of nowhere. Bond punched one in the gut and kicked the other one backward, sending him staggering. One guard stood in front of him, tensing his shoulders and clenching his fists. Bond glanced over his shoulder. The guard he had kicked was picking himself slowly off the floor. He smirked. “Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?” The guards paid him no mind. He faced the one in front of him. He held up the vial. “Don’t want this getting broken, now do we?” He stepped sideways as the guard behind him made a frantic grab for the vial. The forward momentum sent him crashing into his partner. They lay there, knocked out. Bond tugged on his cuffs. “Smooth.” The crowd had fled, leaving the ballroom empty. Bond rolled his eyes. “These people know nothing about gratitude.”

“Nice work, 007. Please, do me a favor. Dispose of that vial.” Q’s voice came over the comms.

“Absolutely.” Walking over to the bar, Bond took a napkin and carefully wrapped the vial inside it. As he left the building, he uprooted one of the flowerbeds and deposited the vial in the bottom. As he reburied it, Q’s voice came once more.

“You have an early flight tomorrow. Do find another place to stay the night quickly, Bond.”

“All finished. Will do.” The noise of a car starting up was heard. “What do you think Mallory will think?”

“I’m sure he’ll be very proud of you. Anything there you think will help us with the current problem?” There was no answer.

“Bond?” Still nothing.

“007, status.” Q began to type furiously, bringing up the street view of Bond’s car. It was there, key in the ignition. Q zoomed in, scanning for any sign of the agent. All he found was a misshapen lump that vaguely resembled an earpiece.

Bond was gone.

* * *  
“What do you mean you don’t bloody know?” Mallory’s voice came through the door to his office, barely dampened by the barrier. Q sighed.

“We have no footage of Bond’s abduction. The earpiece was smashed. And the captors either removed the tracker or Bond forgot.” Mallory stood, slamming his hands on the desk.

“That’s not good enough. We should be able to see everything when an agent is on mission.” He looked as if he was about to continue, but the shrill ringing of the phone on his desk stopped him. He sighed in resignation. “It would be fortunate if we could recover Bond. Unfortunately, we’re currently coordinating a much larger operation in the meantime.”

Q’s face darkened. “Are you saying – “

“I’m saying we have no rescue units currently available. As you’ve pointed out, Bond is a Double-Oh. He should be just fine.” Mallory picked up the phone and impatiently waved Q out. Indignantly, Q swung around and slammed the door as he walked out. Moneypenny and Tanner waited expectantly, their faces falling when they saw Q’s mood.

“No…” Moneypenny said. “No way.”

“There’s something bloody important going on right now and no units can be spared. All the other Double-Ohs are out on mission still.” Q’s voice could barely be heard through his gritted teeth. “And, thanks to him, I can’t send out another agent to get him back.”

“So then that’s it. We’ve got nothing we can do to get him back. We don’t even know if he’s still alive. We need feet on the ground, and we’ve got no one to do it.” Moneypenny looked distraught.

Tanner shook his head. “What we need now is a miracle. And that’s Bond’s specialty.”

“I hate being this helpless,” Q groaned into his hands, “but I can’t do the bloody legwork myself. What do we do?”

“We can’t do anything,” Moneypenny said, looking at the floor, “we just have to pray that Bond can pull this one out of his hat one more time.”

* * *  
When he woke, Bond could tell he was tied to a table in the middle of a room. What he couldn’t tell was where he was, who had taken him, and why. He assumed from the way his shirt was fixed open that they had searched him, and they surely hadn’t found the vial; he’d buried the thing. Luckily - well, sort of - he’d forgotten to put on Q’s cufflinks with the trackers, so there was no way to trace him back to Six. The downside was that he was fairly certain that meant no one knew where to look for him.

What happened?

Bond remembered pulling up to the hotel. He remembered the awestruck doorman he’d tossed the keys to. He remembered talking with Q in the elevator. He remembered the unsatisfying nature of that martini. He remembered the auction and the disgusting connotations. He remembered what the tickets were for. He remembered the vial. He remembered taking out the two guards. He remembered getting in the car.

And that was it. Now he was here. And he hadn’t the foggiest idea how.

He glanced around the room, hoping to gather some idea of where he was. There were no windows, and the door was reinforced steel, bolted to the walls. The lights were flickering, casting shadows on the walls that made it look like they were alive. It smelled strange, some mixture of sweet and pungent, like rotten cantaloupe. Bond couldn’t decide if it was foul or pleasant. The walls were dingy grey, stained with something that looked suspiciously like blood. Bond wrinkled his nose. Lovely. The floor was a messy sprawl of rusty machinery and tangled vegetation, spare parts were strewn haphazardly about the place. The creaking hallway signaled the approach of someone, someone big.

The door swung open with an ominous creak. Because of the way he’d been bound, Bond’s field of vision was limited to the strictly horizontal rotation of his head. And there was something wrong with his eyes, they wouldn’t stay open for very long. He had some difficulty breathing too, his throat felt awfully swollen. So he was unable to speak as his captor approached the table.

“Comfortable, Mr. Bond?” The oiliness of the voice made Bond want to retch. As his interrogator leaned forward, the odor grew stronger. When Bond failed to reply, the man laughed. “My mistake. You can’t talk, can you?”

Bond fought the urge to roll his eyes. The man smiled at his obvious discomfort. Bond’s eyes widened in disgust.

The man’s teeth were withered and jagged, it was a wonder he could still speak normally. His mouth was a cruel snarl of broken flesh and chapped skin. His eyes were black coals, void of life or sympathy. His face was pudgy, like an enormous ball of dough someone left out for too long. Greasy black hair covered the very top of his head like someone had drawn it on. He was dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt and cargo pants, stained a similar color to the walls. As he raised his right hand, he revealed a silver case that was locked tight. He held it up for Bond to see. As it caught the light Bond flinched, the glare was too much for his weakened state. Chuckling, the interrogator set it down on a wheeled table which he eased closer. Turning, he opened the case and withdrew a small, round disk. He held it close to Bond for him to see.

“Do you see this? Do you know what it does?” Without giving Bond a chance to reply, he reached down and gently pressed the device to the center of Bond’s chest.

The pain was unbearable. It felt as if he was being skinned slowly, one piece at a time. And the torture wasn’t just his body, it was his mind too. Images flashed through his head, his M dying in his arms at Skyfall, Vesper drowning before his eyes, Swann’s look of betrayal as he shot her clean through the chest. The images seemed to be using his brain to create the worst concepts he could scare up, Q perishing at his desk, MI6 blowing up again, old kills he hadn’t thought about in ages, the list went on and on. He could feel his throat slowly growing looser, an animalistic yell escaping as the pain went on. He collapsed back, panting. The device had been removed.

The interrogator stood watching Bond desperately trying to get his breath back. Finally, he held up the disk in his hand. It looked so innocuous in his hands. “This device controls the different levels of the toxin currently in your body. I can cause you pain, or bring you pleasure. The decision is entirely dependent on your cooperation.”

“Sounds like the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.” Bond’s voice was a hoarse growl.

“Careful, Mr. Bond. Too much of that toxin will cause your throat to swell up and you will asphyxiate. I just so happen to have more than enough with me to ensure that will happen if I so desire.” The man placed the disk carefully back into the box and exchanged it for a scalpel. “For now, I’ll settle for drawing blood.”

Bond had a witty comment ready for that too, obviously. But the white-hot pain from the scalpel being drawn down his abdomen banished it to the back of his mind. He could feel the liquid seeping out of the cut, oozing slowly onto his skin. Wiping the blade neatly with a cloth from his pocket, the captor bent close to Bond’s face.

“Why were you at the Hotel Royalton?”

“Dump was nearest to the bar I was in. Wish I had driven to the motel down the road.”

The interrogator snarled and drove the blade into Bond’s right bicep. “What did you take?”

Bond gritted his teeth, determined not to cry out again. “Nothing.”

The pain stopped. Bond glared up at the interrogator, who smirked. “Lying, Mr. Bond, will get you nowhere.” Suddenly, his left arm tingled, and his throat tightened once more. He turned to see the syringe the man had placed in the crook of his elbow, emptying its contents into his bloodstream. As he slipped under, the man’s voice was muffled, as if he were underwater. “But I admire your spark.”

The next time he awoke, the man was still standing in front of him, resting the scalpel against the incisions he previously made. Bond’s skin was soaked in a mixture of perspiration and partially congealed blood. The man declined to ask questions or even clean his weapon this time and repeatedly dug the blade into various places on Bond’s skin. Soon there were little cuts dotted across his body that dripped crimson onto Bond’s heaving chest. Still, the interrogator stayed silent. After many minutes of tense silence, he made one last slash into the flesh before him and laid aside the scalpel. Bond was breathing heavily.

“The toxin takes a while to wear off to a point where you can speak. No point in wasting my breath asking questions when you can’t answer.” The man stood back and crossed his arms, smiling innocently down at the shaking agent.

“You’re quite the genius. Never would’ve thought of that.” Bond’s voice came quietly in between gasps. “Makes me wonder why you’re not running for your life.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bond.” His torturer tipped his head in confusion. “I’m afraid I’m not exactly sure why I should fear for my health when you are the one whose life is in danger.”

Bond laughed. Well, technically it was more of a rapid exhalation of air, but under these circumstances, it counted as a laugh. “You think you’ll survive this? I’ll enjoy snapping your neck after this is over.”

The interrogator’s smile slid slowly into place, slimily exposing his mangled teeth. “Oh, Mr. Bond, you don’t actually think there are people out looking, do you? We’ve arranged for a little, erm, ‘distraction’ to keep your little friends occupied. I’m afraid you’ve been abandoned, Mr. Bond. You’ll be here for a while longer.”

No. That couldn’t be. Q would never give up on him. Moneypenny would rather die than leave an agent out in the field. And he knew any of the other Double-Ohs would throw away any respect for Mallory in order to get him back. The interrogator obviously noticed his disbelief and his smile widened.

“Oh, dear me. Well, fortunately, I’ve brought along a little something to help convince you talking is in your best interests.” The man turned to the box. Bond tensed, preparing for that damnable disk to be re-attached, but froze when he heard Q’s voice emanating from the playback machine the man set on the table. So much for them not being able to trace him back to Six.

“No units can be spared. All the other Double-Ohs are out on mission still. And, thanks to him, I can’t send out another agent to get him back.”

“We can’t do anything.” Moneypenny’s voice joined Q’s, shaking 007 to the core. Surely they wouldn’t be hanging him out to dry? But as Mallory’s voice rang out, Bond’s heart sank. They were.

“It would be fortunate if we could recover Bond. Unfortunately, we’re currently coordinating a much larger operation in the meantime.”

The man shut the playback machine off with a click. He turned to face Bond, who looked as if he’d just been shot again. “That was recorded by our operatives. Two days ago. Face it, Mr. Bond, your friends have no intention of recovering you. Maybe if you comply, we’ll send them a postcard.”

Bond winced, then clenched his jaw. The interrogator smirked once more and picked up a blade with a serrated edge.

“Shall we get back to work?”

“By all means, if it’ll make you feel better.”

A new cut opened across Bond’s sternum, breaking the steady pattern of his breathing.

“Now, why were you at the Royalton?”

“Nosy parker, aren’t you?”

Another cut opened over Bond’s ribcage.

“What did you take?”

  
“The entire bar.”

A large gash drenched Bond’s shoulder.

“Why were you at the Royalton?”

The cycle repeated itself. Bond refused to crack, more and more blood pouring from his body. Eventually, the interrogator grew tired and plunged another needle into his arm to drop him back down. Bond’s throat closed up and he slept once more.

When he blinked his way back to consciousness, the man in front of him looked curiously at him with something akin to grudging respect. “You know; this is your third day with us. Most people don’t last two. I’m impressed.”

Bond didn’t bother trying to speak. His throat hadn’t relaxed yet. His interrogator stepped forward but stopped as several loud thumps came from outside. He swung his head around, narrowing his eyes. When no other sounds were heard, he picked up the knife again and stood next to Bond’s shoulder. He was about to slash back into Bond’s skin when muffled gunshots were heard from above them. He stepped back, frowning. Quickly, he grabbed a syringe from the case and jabbed it harshly into Bond’s neck. Depressing the plunger, he smiled down as Bond’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t you worry; the toxin is just being upped to ensure you don’t get any ideas whilst I go check on our friendly neighbors upstairs. I’ll be back to give you the antidote. Possibly.”

He held Bond still as he tried to frantically pull away from the needle in his bloodstream. All too soon, his eyelids drooped closed and his breathing slowed. The captor placed a hand over his neck and smiled when he felt a weak flutter against his fingertips. He placed the now empty syringe back into the case and left the room.

Bond heard the door close with a resounding clang. He was drifting further and further into the darkness currently swallowing his brain, even though he was fighting hard to listen to what was happening. He heard a muffled shriek and the crack of a gunshot somewhere above him. The gunshots continued as they moved slowly back and forth above him before traveling down to his level. The grunts and thuds of bodies hitting the floor traveled slowly up the hallway on the other side of the door, sharp cracks piercing the air followed by cries of pain. At last, everything fell silent. Bond thought he may have finally gone until an ear-splitting boom shook the room as the door was blown open. A pair of hands pressed themselves to his chest and neck, quickly retracted once they felt a pulse. A small prick signaled the needle now dumping something into his neck. He smiled faintly. It was over. At least no one would miss him.

* * *  
Bond opened his eyes.

A dusty yellow crack ran the length of the ceiling, from one wall to the other. He sat up. No restraints impeded him. He looked around. He was in a small room, lying on a bed tucked at one corner. There was a small, fat armchair opposite, next to a round table with two wooden stools sat around it. The room smelled musty, but it was a relief after the stench of the interrogation room. In the corner, a rickety lamp gave out a feeble glow, but the soft light was welcome. Outside, he could hear a dog barking.

Bond looked down at himself. His shirt had been cleaned of blood and when he moved, he felt no cuts opening, saw no red seeping through. His jacket was draped carefully over the back of the armchair, his Walther set on the table. He heard the door opening and rose swiftly, stumbling a bit but still ready to fight if need be. He grabbed the gun and aimed it at the source of the noise. The door opened and Valerie Rosenberg stepped through, quickly raising her hands in a calming gesture.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she breathed, “I thought I might’ve lost you.” She motioned to the chair.

Bond remained standing. “Where are we?” he barked.

“Olden End Motel. Munich. Had to get you out of that room.” Valerie carefully shut the door and stepped further into the room, keeping her hands in front of her.

“How did you find me?”

“We looked at the tapes from the night you were taken. The announcer at that auction at the Royalton wore a ring with a seal on it. The building where you were taken had the same seal painted onto a side door. So did the car you were taken in.” Valerie went to put her hands behind her back but stopped once Bond’s finger slipped to the trigger. She slowly withdrew her own firearm by the barrel, set it down on the floor, and slid it over. She stood back up and kept her hands raised. “I’m not here to hurt you, sir.”

“Somehow I have a hard time believing that. Q said there were no agents free to come to get me.” Bond kept the gun focused on her chest.

“Things change. You’re alive. The people who captured you have been taken care of. What’s the problem?” Valerie’s eyes held Bond’s icy blue stare without fear. Bond waited a few seconds before placing both guns on the table. Now that his adrenaline spike was coming to an end, he was feeling dizzy all of a sudden.

“I don’t know.” He sat back down on the bed. “I could use a drink.”

“I wouldn’t, just yet.” Valerie dropped her hands and tugged one of the stools closer to the bed. She sat down and held her hand out. Bond placed his left arm in her hand and she gently unbuttoned his cuff and rolled it back to reveal a dark mark on the inside of his wrist. “The toxin is still in your system. Without regular re-administration, it will wash out of your system in a little over five hours. You’ve been out for around three since I got you out. I’d hold off for a little while longer.” She dropped his hand and went over to the table.

“Lovely.” Bond rolled his cuff back down and looked at the little recruit working quietly across from him. She gave him a small smile that he returned after a minute. But then he remembered what had happened concerning her loyalty and the smile slid off of his face. The woman across from him had just risked her life and for what? To save the person who thought she could be betraying them all? To rescue someone who had told the leaders of Six that she was responsible for killing her partner on a mission? To find the one who had blatantly threatened her in the safety of the training facility? She noticed him staring and looked over, worried.

“Are you alright, sir?” She looked so concerned that Bond smiled just to ease her nerves.

“Don’t worry, I’m not about to pop off any second.” He looked at the gun under her hands, a Glock 26. She was disassembling it to clean it. “Need a hand?”

“No, thank you, sir, I can manage.” Her hands flew as she put the gun back together, slid a new mag into it, and set it back down on the table. “How are you otherwise? Did you at least finish the job at the Royalton before they took you?”

“Yes.” He didn’t offer any more details and she didn’t press. He watched her for a while longer, as she finished checking the gun’s grip and ensuring the safety was engaged. Once she finished, she came back towards him, sitting down. She looked down at the floor, seemingly content to sit in silence. She looked up as Bond called her name.

“Valerie?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Could we lose the ‘sir’ for now?” Bond asked. “Makes me feel old.”

“Of course.” Valerie cocked her head. “But then how should I address you?”

“Bond, 007, I’ll even let you call me James if you’re good.”

“I’ll stick with 007.” Valerie shifted back on her seat. “Did you have a question?”

Bond leaned forward, resting his weight on his arms. “Yes. When will we be returning to Six?”

“We’ll leave in about ten minutes. The plane lands in an airfield outside the city to take us back. I called in as soon as we were out, they said they’ll send someone to collect you.”

“I see.” They fell silent once more. Valerie bowed her head again. “Do we know who took me?”

“I think it’s some part of that crime ring I was sent to Russia to investigate, but I’m not sure.”

“What makes you think so?”

“The seal on that door and the announcer’s ring has its roots in Russian folklore. That’s it.”

“You’ve certainly done your homework.”

“I do what I can.”

“Did you find my car?”

“You mean Q’s car?” Valerie’s mouth curved up in a smirk. “Yes. A certain doorman was quite happily driving it down the Autobahn.”

Bond tried to laugh but felt his throat suddenly swelling once again. He tensed, ready to fight as Valerie quickly stood and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Calm down, it’s alright, 007. It’s just the toxin washing out. Seems it’s been designed to give one final push before it gives up. I promise you’ll walk away from this. It’s alright.”

Bond could do nothing as his body shut down. All he could do was look up at Valerie as he fell back onto the bed. The last thing he felt before he completely lost consciousness was her hand gently taking his.

* * *  
When he opened his eyes, the bright lights of Medical made Bond’s head hurt. When he tried to sit up, one of the doctors rushed in and pressed a button on the wall. “He’s awake.”

“You’d better bloody hope so.” Bond sat on the edge of the bed, glaring at the doctor, who stared right back.

“You’re lucky Rosenberg found you when she did. That toxin’s a nasty one. Gave you one hell of a fight.” The doctor faced him and crossed his arms. “And you won.”

“Pour the champagne.” Bond was in no mood to talk. “When can I leave?”

“Once the swelling in your throat’s gone down a bit more. The toxin enlarged your thyroid gland, causing a bad case of hypothyroidism and closing off your windpipe. It’s fascinating how it managed to override the pituitary gland to ensure you were properly incapacitated. The swelling was quite impressive.”

Bond was in no mood to discuss the mission he’d just been through. He’d just been bloody poisoned, for crying out loud. But something in the doctor’s droning made his stop. “You said the toxin caused my throat to swell?”

“Yes, quite considerably.”

“Didn’t you find a swelling on Rosenberg’s neck when she got back from Russia?”

The doctor frowned. “Yes, but – “

“Where is Agent Rosenberg now?”

“As soon as she brought you back here, four agents took her up to M’s office. Seems he wasn’t too pleased with her abrupt…where are you going?”

Bond was out the door and in the lift by the time the doctor realized he was moving.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next we have pissed off!bond and more plot
> 
> google translate for the win


	5. When Five and Six Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out how Rosenberg got to Bond, and how little we actually know about the new recruit.
> 
> 'New' recruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossover starts now

_Four days earlier_

“007? 007?” Q’s frantic voice cut through Q-Branch. The Quartermaster was typing furiously on his computer, trying to get a visual on Bond. After a few minutes, his hands flew up to his head in frustration. “Bloody hell, Bond’s been taken.”

The minions immediately took up the abandoned feverish typing and soon Q-Branch was filled with the click-clack of many keyboards operating at the same time. R stepped up behind Q. “What do we do?”

“Well, we keep searching until we find some footage of where 007 was taken. And then we go to M.” Q took his hands out of his hair and settled them back into place on his keyboard. “And we trust Bond to handle himself until then.”

R snorted. “This should go well.”

The minions worked overtime, not one leaving until Moneypenny and Tanner had to come down to ensure everyone was still alive. They were shocked at the somber atmosphere in one of the more jovial places in Six. Tanner walked up to Q who was still typing on his own computer.

“Where’s the fire, Quartermaster?”

“Bond’s been taken.”

Tanner stood ramrod straight, Moneypenny at his elbow. “What do we know?”

“We know they were quick. They managed to take him silently in the space of about three seconds. We know they were waiting for him. They smashed his earpiece. And we know they’re smart. We have no links to where Bond could have been taken. Yet.”

Tanner cursed softly. “Did you at least get what the ticket was for?”

“Yes. Luckily they were kind enough to wait until Bond completed his mission.” Q passed a hand over his face in frustration. “We’ll keep looking, sir. We’ll find him.”

“Let’s hope we do. We need him to help us with problems here,” Moneypenny said softly, so only the three of them could hear. “He knows Rosenberg the best. Well, more than us three. And they have the most in common. If anyone can get her to talk, it’ll be him.”

“I’m not sure how well she’ll take that, Miss Moneypenny,” Q said in the midst of his typing, “but I agree. We need 007 back. Urgently.”

“You more so than us, dear Q,” Moneypenny said with a smirk. “We should go. See if Mallory can do anything with the intel Bond recovered.”

The two of them left. Q, R, and the rest of the minions worked themselves half to death until finally calling it quits around three a.m. the next morning, which wasn’t all that unusual, but it was unusual for nothing productive to have come out of it. Q sent everyone home before packing up his own workstation and heading off, leaving Q-Branch in pitch blackness. For the first time in about a week, Q-Branch was completely silent and completely empty. Save for the lone figure sitting in a chair at the back of the room.

Valerie had waited quietly for everyone to filter out. As she had pointed out to 006 and 007, she was often underestimated and thus ignored. So she sat still for hours until everybody else had left. Finally, she rolled her chair to a desk in the corner that normally belonged to Minion No. 143, or Amelia. All Q-Branch computers required proper identification keys to operate. Luckily, being ignored had its perks. And Amelia had been chatting quite animatedly to her friends (Minions 144 - 149) and forgot to zip up her bag. A quick swipe of Amelia’s card and all of the security footage from Bond’s mission was on the screen. Valerie’s eyes scanned the footage, looking for any small detail that might help the search to find 007. As the auction began, Valerie found herself wearing the same disgusted look clearly displayed on Bond’s face in the footage. She was about to call it a night and leave, but something on the announcer’s ring had caught her eye. With a few clicks, she zoomed in and focused on the blood red ring on his left hand. There was a crest emblazoned in gold, a cross inside a circle with five round dots in its center, surrounded by little swirls and lines. Valerie’s blood ran cold. She knew that seal. And she hadn’t seen it in a long time. Quickly, she ran a search on the cameras around Berlin. taking around half an hour before deciding Bond wasn’t in the city. She expanded her search, digging into the rest of the CCTV network. After half an hour, she found what she wanted. An otherwise unmarked car with the seal painted where the license plate should be parked in an alley outside a building in Weimar. Valerie sat back with a sigh. She downloaded the footage onto a USB drive and left it on Q’s desk. She left, making sure to cover up her tracks, and started the long climb up to M’s office.

She was surprised to see a light shining from under the door to Moneypenny and M’s offices and was even more surprised to hear voices coming from inside. The floor was otherwise deserted. Walking carefully up to the door, she caught the tail end of the argument between Q and M, and the following discussion between Q, Moneypenny, and Tanner. Valerie’s heart sank as she heard what had come of the late night - or early morning - argument. They weren’t going to send anyone out after 007. And Mallory had issued an order that no other agents were to be sent out after him. Even though she knew where to find him.

Q left shortly after. He had walked slowly out of the office, head bowed, muttering tiredly to himself. Moneypenny and Tanner joined him soon after, bundling up for the chilly London air outside Six. Even Mallory trudged out, looking drained after the debate with someone from Five. Valerie watched them all go with a solemn expression. She was trying to make up her mind about what to do. On one hand, she could talk to Mallory and give him the intel she had found, and ask to go out after Bond. She would risk being punished for the infiltration of Q-Branch, and her intel would probably just be dismissed. Or, she could take it up with Q, Tanner, or Moneypenny. They might be able to convince Mallory better than she could. But they had been acting suspicious of her ever since Garrett’s mission. It was much more likely they would ensure she was punished and put under heavy surveillance. So, that left her one option. If she was honest, this was her least favorite. But it was the only one that would ensure her findings were acted upon. And the only one that guaranteed Bond would be brought back.

She walked out of Six with a grim expression, fixing her ponytail. Time to go to work.

* * *  
 _Present Day_

“Agent Rosenberg, out of all the excuses you bring out for a crime as outrageous as this, I have to say you chose the weakest one.”

The minute she landed, she dragged Bond into Medical. Not easy for someone as small as her; to lift someone who dwarfed her in size and weight into a hospital bed, and while they were unconscious. At least he was safe. But as soon as she deposited him into the doctors’ arms, four agents armed to the teeth had grabbed her by the arms and forcibly escorted her up to M’s office. They had cuffed her once she was in the lift, two keeping hold of her arms and the other two falling behind her. The rest of the Double-Ohs had formed two lines in Moneypenny’s office leading up to M’s door, which was open. The Double-Ohs all regarded her with the same kind of disgust reserved for the scum they took down regularly on missions. This boded well.

Once she was pushed through the door and it was locked behind her, she took in the people inside the office. Mallory was standing with his hands on his hips, glaring at her. Moneypenny stood with her arms folded behind him, staring at her in much the same way. Q was by the window, his arms at his sides but his hands curled into fists. To say he was mad was an understatement. He looked angrier than he had been when 008 shattered his favorite mug. The only other person besides her guards was a man dressed in a grey suit sitting in an armchair next to M’s desk, an umbrella leaned up against the side. A silver briefcase sat next to it. She recognized him as the Chairman who worked in the British Government. She turned her attention back to Mallory.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir.”

“Well then let me clarify it for you, agent.” Mallory leaned forward, his hands on the desk. “You take off around the world without telling anyone where you’ve gone, you disobey a direct order from me, the Quartermaster, his second-in-command, and your instructor, and the only reason you give when you come back is that you went to go rescue an agent?”

“Yes, sir,” Rosenberg said, her voice still calm and even. “He’s in Medical if you want to check.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe your story, as I have reason to believe you’ve done nothing but lie ever since you joined us. In fact, I have sufficient evidence to accuse you of selling out this entire agency.” Mallory continued to glare as he straightened up, relishing at the brief look of confusion in Rosenberg’s face. “Besides, you have no proof of your claim. We’re currently monitoring all of the agents currently in the field. And there are no agents currently in need of your so-called rescuing.”

“None, really? I’m wounded.” The voice came from out of nowhere. Mallory fell silent, his gaze shooting to a spot behind Rosenberg. Moneypenny’s arms fell to her sides, Tanner’s mouth dropped open. Q took a startled step forward. They all had a good reason. James Bond, looking as polished as ever, had just walked through the door, tugging on his cuffs as he smirked at their expressions of surprise. He strode in like he bloody owned the place. “Miss me?”

“Bond? How the hell did you…” Mallory trailed off in surprise before registering both Rosenberg and Bond had the same expressions on their faces; smug and incredibly self-satisfied. Q was right, they were bloody identical.

“Well, I’m sorry sir,” Rosenberg said after Bond had come to stand next to her, ignoring the looks from the guards, “I was wrong. He was down in Medical.”

“Well, I had an appointment to keep. And then I heard Valerie had been – how did the doctor describe it? – oh yes, ‘taken’ up here, so of course, I had to see it for myself.” Bond turned his head to look down at the small agent cuffed beside him. “Mind explaining to me why the agent who just saved my arse is being ‘taken’ up here?”

The gentleman sitting in the chair, who had not moved throughout the entire affair, answered Bond’s question. “Because that agent has infiltrated Q-Branch, hijacked another employee’s property and computer, hacked into the German CCTV network, disobeyed a direct order from three of her superiors, stole a car, killed an entire building full of people, stole a plane, and had the nerve to come back to headquarters all to rescue an agent who had been determined too much of a risk to attempt to rescue.” All of this was spoken in a clear, confident voice that carried quiet dignity and an unmistakable air of authority.

Mallory hastened to make introductions. “007, Mycroft Holmes, Chairman. Mr. Holmes – “

“James Bond, yes, so I’ve heard.” Mycroft rose swiftly, hooking the umbrella over his harm and reaching his hand out to James. “My brother has spoken quite highly of you.”

“Sir,” James returned the handshake. “Your brother?”

“Your own dear Quartermaster, Mr. Bond.” James shot a surprised glance over at Q, who rolled his eyes.

“Told you, my family is not exactly the greeting card type,” Q said with a huff, “which is why we don’t work together very often.”

“But sometimes the situation calls for it.” Mycroft turned his attention back to Rosenberg, who had been watching them with a slightly amused expression on her face. “Situations much like this.”

“Mr. Holmes is the one who brought you to my attention, Agent Rosenberg.” Mallory had quickly assumed his position as the one in charge. “So you have not only disappointed me but him as well with your actions. I would never have pinned you as a traitor, but with the help of Tanner, Q, Moneypenny, and 007 we’ve noticed your little adventure.”

As Rosenberg looked up at Bond, he was careful to keep his face a mask. Inside, however, he didn’t feel as accomplished as Mallory looked. She had – if Mycroft was to be believed – broken almost every rule in the book for him, and in turn, he had brought her reputation crashing down. Mallory’s mouth twisted up in a cruel smirk.

“How fitting, you risk your life to rescue the one who sniffed you out first.” Rosenberg didn’t move her eyes from Bond’s face. He stared right back at her, expecting to see anger, betrayal, sadness, hell, even fear. But instead, he saw something even worse – acceptance. And… was that forgiveness? Somehow, she had anticipated that he would do something like this and had risked her life regardless, she didn’t seem to blame him for what he did. And that made him feel worse. She looked down again.

“Why aren’t the others up here then?” Bond turned to Mallory. “If you’re holding her here just because she helped rescue me, where are the others who did the same?”

Mycroft’s smirk grew. “Because there are no others, 007.”

Bond blinked. “What?”

“She’s the only one. She took off on her little adventure by herself, no other field agent or minion assisted her in any way, shape, or form. She killed everyone in that building and she flew you back here.”

Bond looked back at the little recruit standing next to him. She had done it by herself. She had been the one who had taken out all of those horrible people who had held him for three days. She had been the one to patch him up after the ordeal. She had been the one to fly him back home. And she had been the one to not give up until he was safely in the clutches of Medical. This time he didn’t bother to keep his face a mask. Undisguised admiration shone out of his face as he stared at her. She didn’t raise her head but a small smile crawled its way across her mouth.

Mallory cleared his throat. “Agent Rosenberg, I could arrest you just for accessing Q-Branch without permission. And to blatantly ignore an order, to kill people without the proper clearance to do so, to deface the name of MI6 and disrespect everyone here, I should have you confined to solitary containment and let you rot in a cell. But for betraying this agency, for helping to kill your partner – “

“Sir, I don’t think that was Rosenberg’s fault. She had a swelling in her throat when she returned. The toxin I was injected with – “

“Save it, Bond,” Mallory silenced the Double-Oh with a fierce glare. Wisely, Bond decided to hold his tongue. Rosenberg looked up with what appeared to be a small amount of gratitude. He looked back, silently apologizing for what was about to happen. The corners of her mouth twitched, and she inclined her head marginally before looking back down. Mallory continued despite the interjection.

“Those actions are an entirely different matter. A matter, that, unfortunately, warrants a punishment far more severe.”

The office was dead silent. Mallory leaned back, letting the tension build.

“I should have you interrogated for everything you know about this agency and who you really work for. And I should authorize drastic action needed to obtain that information. By any means necessary.”

Bond’s blood ran cold. That would mean every method was fair game, that 005 would be given full control over the situation. And that Rosenberg would likely be dead by the end of it. He knew firsthand that 005 wouldn’t go easily either. She looked absolutely murderous when Rosenberg had bested Bradbury in the tournament, and if her smirk outside had revealed anything, it was a burning desire to get her hands on the agent. Mallory motioned for the guards to take her away, they roughly grabbed her arms and shoved Bond out of the way as they pulled her towards the door. Bond was about to protest when he caught Valerie’s eyes. The minute they made eye contact he knew there would be no point. She wasn’t fighting them, she would go quietly, but she wouldn’t give up anything. No matter what they did to her, she wasn’t going to talk.

The Double-Ohs smirked as she was led out the door. Bond saw 002 and 004 smiling at each other before turning their attention back to Rosenberg. 006 shot James a smile that said ‘Now who’s recruit is worse?’ James was too shocked to return with a witty comment. 001 looked mildly impressed but mostly disgusted as Rosenberg was dragged out of the room. 008 was cracking his knuckles as she passed him, laughing low in his throat as she stumbled slightly. 003 and 009 stood with their arms folded, glaring at the agent. The rooms were silent other than the soft thuds as Rosenberg struggled to stay standing as the guards pushed her away from the office.

Bond was fighting the urge to go and take Rosenberg by the arm when one of the guards shoved her roughly to one side, eliciting a snicker from the Double-Ohs. 005 stood in front of the door. She held up a hand for the guards to stop. They did so, jerking Rosenberg upright. The agent stared straight ahead, refusing to meet 005’s gaze. The Double-Oh retaliated by grasping her chin hard enough to bruise and wrenching her head up so she was forced to look at 005. Tugging her head from side to side, she looked over the agent’s skin like an artist surveying a blank canvas. They held each other’s eyes for a minute until 005 smirked and dropped her hand away from Rosenberg’s head. She stepped out of the way and nodded for the guards to continue. 005 then turned her head and saw 007 looking straight at her. The smirk stayed plastered on her face as Rosenberg continued to be pushed forwards.

She was almost out the door when Mycroft’s voice made them stop. He motioned for the guard to release her. They did after a minute, returning to their previous positions around Rosenberg just by the door. Mallory looked at the Chairman, confused. Q was frowning at his brother, attempting to figure out what on earth was going on. Bond caught Moneypenny and Tanner looking at him, concerned.

“Whilst I agree the agent has acted outside of normal parameters, I do not think said actions warrant such an extreme reaction.” Mycroft took his umbrella by the handle and tapped the point gently on the floor. “Personally, I think it’s time.” His gaze was fixed on Rosenberg.

  
“By all means, it would certainly make my job much easier. And I’m sure that the rest would agree with you.” Rosenberg shook the guards off her arms and stood to face the man. The rest of the room looked perplexed, not fully understanding what was happening. Eventually, Mallory broke the silence.

“Sir? As much as I trust your judgment, may I ask why you disagree with my decision?” Mycroft turned to look at the leader of MI6 who looked slightly put-out at having his authority overruled.

“Your basis for incarceration is solely based on the agent’s actions carried out without your permission. However, you have in your agency other agents who have disobeyed orders in a similar fashion and have received punishments must less severe, or have been pardoned entirely.” His gaze lingered on Q and Bond for a second before returning to M. “Surely you can understand that the agent was entirely justified in her actions given the criteria you have developed for an excusable infraction.”

Mallory was struggling to keep his cool. “Those agents and incidents you mentioned have involved people with much higher security clearances than Rosenberg, and have had countless people to back up their actions. Rosenberg, on the other hand, does not. And she has killed people in the name of MI6 without permission.”

“As have most of the others in this room.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows. Clearly, Mallory was not making much headway.

“Those people - ” Mallory was very close to yelling - “have a license to kill. And have to pass rigorous examinations before that license is awarded. With all due respect, I’m afraid I still can’t see why Rosenberg should be let off the hook here, sir.”

“If you would look at her file, M, I’m sure you would see that – “

“I’ve looked at her file,” M interrupted, his control slipping, “it says nothing about having the right to commit any of the offenses Rosenberg has been found guilty of and excuses nothing. If anything, it further incriminates her. She has no security clearance whatsoever.”

“Well, then you clearly haven’t been looking at the right file.” Without further delay, Mycroft crossed back over to the chair and picked up the briefcase. He placed it on M’s desk and slid it across. With an uncertain glance, Mallory reached forward and clicked the locks off of the closures and slowly opened the case. He produced a thick manila file and opened it carefully. Moneypenny drew closer in order to read what was written inside. Tanner joined soon after, leaning forward slightly to make out the small type inside. Even Q drifted slowly over to the group, casting a curious glance at his brother, who stood with his one hand in his pocket and the other leaning his weight on the umbrella still in his grasp. Bond remained where he was, stationed just near the door between Moneypenny’s office and Mallory’s, body turned slightly the side, still facing partly out of the door to keep an eye on Rosenberg. The rest of the Double-Ohs had turned slightly as well, small whispers flitting up and down the lines. 005, in particular, looked annoyed, perhaps she was just eager to cut through the red tape and get to work. Rosenberg herself looked on calmly, her blank neutral expression unsettling the guards around her. The entire office was silent save for the soft tapping of Mycroft’s umbrella.

Mallory scanned the file, his eyes widening and his mouth tightening in surprise. He looked up and hastily signaled to the guards. They looked confused, one opening his mouth to protest.

“Just do it!” Mallory snarled, looking as if he might be sick. The guard turned to the one opposite him. He shrugged and unlocked Rosenberg’s cuffs. She dropped her wrists, reaching up to tighten her ponytail before walking back up to stand next to 007. The rest of the Double-Ohs looked furious. The guards shuffled nervously and fled once Mycroft fixed his eyes on them. The door shut with a loud thud, sparking another round of whispers through the Double-Ohs. Mallory ignored them, going back to the file. “Dear God…”

Moneypenny spoke next. “No way…” Her eyes shot up to Rosenberg.

“I thought it was just a myth new recruits were told.” Tanner kept his eyes on the file, his voice low in his throat. “I had no idea…”

Q remained silent for the longest. His mouth was slightly open, mouthing some of the words as he read. When he spoke, it was directed at Mycroft. “You said he was gone! I asked you, and you said he disappeared!”

“On the contrary, I merely said they were no longer working for the intelligence agency. Well, not officially.” Mycroft returned the Quartermaster’s scowl with a raised eyebrow.

“You also said it was a he.”

“I said no such thing. Clearly, brother dear, I had anticipated you would figure it out.” Mycroft’s smirk could rival Bond’s finest. “I guess I was too generous in my estimation.”

“Of course you would say that,” Q muttered before taking a deep breath. After a few seconds, he let it out and his eyes reflected the signature level of business and sarcasm. His voice became much more normal. “Does Sherlock know?”

“Yes. He too was rather taken aback by it.” Now both the Holmes brothers were smirking. Mycroft continued. “But I’ll be sure to tell him you’ve finally joined the party.”

“Do, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled he has one less thing to hold over my head,” Q chuckled.

“Excuse me.”

The seven in the office turned to see the Double-Ohs has formed a cluster just outside Mallory’s door. They all had looks of confusion, anger, or, in 006’s case, reluctant admiration. Alec and James seemed to be holding their own private conversation that ended with Alec shaking his head and leaning nonchalantly up against the door frame. 005 stood at the front, her foot tapping impatiently on the ground.

  
“So sorry to interrupt, but would you mind explaining to the rest of us what the hell is going on here?”

The seven remained silent. Mycroft regarded the frustrated woman in very much the same way one would regard an upset toddler. He spoke in a way that echoed his look.

“I am giving your superior an opportunity to recall his decision regarding Agent Rosenberg.” His voice was terribly condescending and accompanied by a patronizing smile. “I accept your apology.” 007 bit back a laugh. Barely. He wasn’t so lucky when he caught sight of 005 looking more offended than he’d ever seen her.

“With all due respect sir,” 005 voice was icy, and she took a step forward, “don’t you think we have a right to know why M should reconsider his decision?”

“No.” The answer came quickly and without sarcasm. “Not unless you do not mind, of course, my dear.” The latter statement was directed towards Rosenberg, who shook her head.

006 and 007 both covered smirks as 005 struggled to not yell at the Chairman. “May I ask why the decision is in her hands? What has she done to deserve that level of privilege or respect?”

“Well for starters, I don’t throw a temper tantrum in front of the most dangerous man in England.” Rosenberg’s voice broke the silence. Both 006 and 007 now had wide grins on their faces. She caught Q’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Q nodded in agreement and they both looked at Mycroft, who rolled his eyes.

“Please, I occupy a minor position in the British Government.”

“And hell is just a sauna.”

“Sir?” Bond spoke up, ignoring 005’s spluttering. Mycroft turned to look at him. “Should I assume that 005 will not be interrogating Valerie?”

“Yes, 007. I’m afraid none of you will.” Mycroft turned his attention back to Rosenberg. “Report.”

“Targets were not aware of entry until I had dropped three. Shots were not necessary until others appeared with Colt Automatics. The toxin has been improved. Now requires only one administration to drop a subject, drastically improved upon previous attempts. But the regular administration is still needed. Otherwise uneventful, German division taken down, involvement confirmed.”

“Analysis of threat?”

“Division seemed to be more lackluster, clearly not anticipating attempted breach. Others decidedly more sophisticated, evidence in Mongolia, China, and Morocco. Russia still seems to be the hub for device distribution.”

“Good. Debrief the agents of your choosing to assist, I expect a full mission report on my desk first thing tomorrow.” Mycroft turned to Mallory. “Allow the agent full control over whom she works with. I expect my brother will be more than happy to help.”

“Of course,” Q nodded and smiled at Rosenberg. “I’m sure you know how this works then?”

“Yes, I do.” Rosenberg returned the smile.

Mycroft continued speaking to Mallory. “I would advise you to be careful regarding the Double-Ohs. As we all know, the last time a team of agents attacked her Agent Kim was dismissed rather…abruptly.”

Mallory slowly turned to Rosenberg. She looked back calmly. “I don’t know if I should be surprised or not. I guess I understand the incident a bit more now.”

006 spoke up from the back of the huddle. “Agent Kim? That was her?”

“Yes, do try to keep up.” Mycroft’s voice took on the bored tone he normally only reserved for those truly taxing his patience.

“They’re Double-Ohs, dear brother,” Q said with a glance at Bond, “they’re not known for their intelligence.”

“Some of us manage to function,” Bond shot back.

“Some better than others,” Alec couldn’t resist chiming in, the rivalry between the two, crystal clear. Bond chose not to hurl something at his head.

“I trust you’ll be able to find a suitable agent?” Mycroft dismissed the comment and was looking back at Rosenberg.

“I think so,” she smiled confidently back, “if they agree.”

“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble.” Mycroft turned his gaze to Mallory, who was still reading the file. “Shall I leave that here or shall I return it to the office?”

“With your permission sir, I’d like to keep it for a while. Just to look it over.” Mallory shut the file and placed it carefully down onto his desk. Mycroft nodded once, picked up the now empty briefcase and turned to go.

“I’ll be in touch.” Casting one last look at the head of MI6, he walked out, pausing once in front of the little recruit.

“Welcome back, Agent Barker.”

“It’s good to be back, sir.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be honest how many of you saw that coming


	6. The Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a bit more about the scale of what's going on, and everybody is still reeling from the reveal.
> 
> And Yeager gets what's coming to him.

As the door swung closed, 006 spoke first.

“Bloody hell.”

“Not exactly the reaction I was expecting.” Rosenberg – no, Barker – dropped her hands from behind her back and produced a flash drive from her pocket. She walked forward and passed it to Mallory who took it instantly. “That’s a list of everything sold at the auction, whom it was sold to, and background info on the seal. Should be enough to go on for now. Sweetheart, do close your mouth. I was under the impression you were more than a goldfish.”

This was directed at 005, who had stood frozen since Mycroft had scolded her. She snapped it shut and clenched her jaw. Q snorted. 006 moved forward and walked up to Bond.

“How come it’s always you, huh? First Q, now this?”

“I think I can speak for both the Quartermaster and myself when I say we’ll try not to be offended by that,” Rosenberg – dammit, Barker – said coolly, “speaking of which, shall we?”

“Of course.” Q came around the side of the table and followed her out of the room. The Double-Ohs parted as they walked past, not pausing until Rosen – Barker stopped right before they left.

“Your brother said I have to pick an agent?”

“Yes, two if possible.” Q turned, looking at the Double-Ohs staring at them. “Take your pick.”

Barker swiveled around to see all of the agents looking at her with mixed emotions. Some – 005, 003, 008 – looked irritated or resentful. Others – 001, 002, 004, 009 – looked eager, ready to go to work. She remained silent for a minute longer before raising an eyebrow at the pair still inside Mallory’s office. Bond returned the look with a smirk. “Q, which two agents are the best at causing minimal collateral damage and remaining inconspicuous?”

“001 and 003.” Barker still didn’t break eye contact.

“And the worst?”

“006 and 007.” Now both Barker and Bond were sporting identical smirks.

“Then that’s what we’ll go with.”

Barker turned on her heel and walked out, shortly followed by Q. Alec and Bond walked out after them. The four made their way to the lift, waiting as the doors closed on the rest of the agents still in Mallory’s office. Right before they dropped out of sight, Barker called out again.

“005, your mouth. Flies don’t taste very good.”

The look on 005’s face was priceless. The entire lift was still laughing once they stepped into Q-Branch.

Q led the way past the minions into his office and shut the door. He fingered the flash drive Barker had given him, plugging it into his computer, waiting for the information to load. At last, it beeped in response and the various windows popped up on the screens in front of them. Q looked up to where Barker was still standing, waiting. “When you’re ready, Agent Barker?”

“Just Barker will do.” She took a step forward and crossed her arms. “The list comprises mainly of artifacts that have been collected over the course of a few years, nothing of note. Unfortunately, they all have their origins in various associations or organizations not known for their moral strength. We’ve seen other auctions like this in other places, it seems to be the favorite for funding for the group. The only new development is the vial you destroyed, 007. They’ve been advertising a new formula from other auctions but haven’t shown it until now.”

“How do you know the auctions are all connected?” Bond said.

“The seal,” Barker said as Q found the window and enlarged it. “It’s been found somewhere at every auction, be it painted on a wall, stamped on the tickets, on the auctioneer, or engraved on the items sold. It was also painted on the car that took you and the side door to the building you were kept in.”

“The symbol has its roots in Russian mythology, it’s how the witch Baba Yaga is recognized. Allegedly, she was said to either help or hinder those whom she meets, seen as a mother with links to wildlife. Some tales describe her as one person, others as three sisters whom all share the same name.” Barker stopped and looked at Q. “One would dismiss the traveler, one would dismiss but give the traveler a warning about the third, and the third would go for the kill.”

Q smirked. “Sounds familiar.”

Barker smiled. “I’m sure. We’re not exactly sure which of the three this seal pertains to, but I’m guessing the third.”

“You said that this organization had many divisions?” 006 asked.

“Yes, although unlike the sisters from the tale, they go by different names.” Barker turned to face the two Double-Ohs. “And there’s more than three. Unlike the one in Germany, they tend to be much more active, international, and deadly.”

“What are they called?” 006 crossed his arms. “This sounds like more than a little warehouse they took Bond to.”

“You’ve run into a few of them before. Quantum. SPECTRE. Those seem to be the first two incarnations of the sisters, at least for now, and the most prominent.” Bond snorted at Barker’s matter-of-fact tone. “They’re all interconnected, but they take turns going public. There’s been a few others, HYDRA, Leviathan, the Red Room, but those are mostly gone now.”

“Wait, isn’t this what Tanner and M were working on?” Alec said. Barker nodded.

“The only thing I’ve noticed about those ones you’ve mentioned is they’re incredibly bad at building bases that don’t explode,” Bond smirked, “is that all?”

“No, although I wish it was.” Barker smiled once before it was replaced with a frown. “They all controlled human trafficking rings, enough firepower to destroy the planet, and had high ranking officials in various intelligence agencies and governments around the world as members. Each also had teams of highly skilled, highly trained assassins designed as kill teams. Much like the Double-Ohs, except much more strictly run and controlled.” The smile was back. “And they had a lot less influence over their superiors. They were treated as blunt instruments, just a means to an end.”

“Is this your way of telling us to be nicer to Mallory, Agent Barker?” Bond said with a raised eyebrow. “Because I doubt that will happen.”

“No, this is my way of telling you to be nicer to Q, Moneypenny, and Tanner.” Her response elicited a laugh from both 006 and Q. At Bond’s smirk, she added: “And that includes outside of Six, 007.”

“Is this your version of the ‘break his heart and I’ll kill you’ speech?” Bond said. “Because I’m getting just a tad tired of them.”

“First off, no, it’s just me speaking as someone who does have to deal with both of you on a regular basis, you’ll know when I give you that speech, and second of all, as I’m sure you know, Q may not be a Double-Oh, but he is lethal. And he’s a Holmes. I’d just be lucky to get a piece of you to bury.”

“That is if they decide to kill him at all,” Q said, echoing Barker’s serious tone, “they might just keep him alive long enough to know the chewy taste of his own intestines.”

“Really? I thought they’d go for the full skin coat routine, stripping off every single inch piece by piece.” Barker cocked her head as if planning it out in her head.

Bond raised his hands in surrender. “Point taken, I won’t hurt Q, indirectly or directly. Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Barker said with a smile. “Anyway, going back to what we’re actually here to discuss, each organization has been secretly feeding crisis, starting wars, and turning order to chaos for years. We’ve taken some of them out with the help of others, but we’re just slowing them down.”

“Taking out SPECTRE was just ‘slowing them down?’” Bond asked. “Taking out Blofeld, taking down that base in the middle of nowhere, Q nearly getting killed, that was just ‘slowing them down?’”

“Yes, unfortunately, it seemed SPECTRE was just the division that dealt with the assimilation of MI6 and the British Government. C was chosen to get access to the MI6 servers and gain the trust of the government. Madeleine Swann was an agent of theirs, chosen to get you out of the way.” Barker looked down. “Sorry about that.”

“She got what she deserved,” Bond said, “and it didn’t work. I’m still here, alive, and she’s not.”

“I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re glad.” Barker crossed her arms. “Another thing that links the divisions is their method. HYDRA, for example, had an operative at the head of the security council of another intelligence organization. Leviathan placed an agent in the midst of a government board of directors.”

“So why are they so hard to find?” 006 said. “Seems fairly easy to me.”

“It’s easy to find the divisions, it’s not easy to determine which one is actually in charge. For a while, we thought it was HYDRA, but then SPECTRE popped up. Now this one’s come up, and we don’t know what their big plan will be,” Barker sighed, “but we’ve got a few leads.”

“You said it might be linked to the crime ring you were sent to go investigate,” Bond said, “so could they be centered in Russia?”

“That’s what we think. But as of right now, you know everything I do.” Barker uncrossed her arms and turned back to Q. “Shall I leave you the flash drive to look over?”

“Yes, thank you. If there’s nothing else, I’m afraid I will have to ask you all to leave. There’s only so much crazy I can take without a cup of tea.” Q sighed and slumped back into his chair.

“Want me to get you a cup?” Bond’s voice had dropped three registers and he came to stand behind Q, smoothing his cardigan over his shoulder and lightly squeezing his arm.

“And that’s our cue, 006.” Barker rolled her eyes and walked out. “Thanks, Q.”

“Agreed. Try to remember that the room isn’t soundproofed, James.” 006 winked and followed Barker out.

The two who remained in the office watched them go silently. Once the door closed Q laughed. “That was effective.”

“Agreed. Good to know.” Bond dropped his other hand to Q’s opposite shoulder, waiting for the Quartermaster to calm down and lean back before turning and leaning against his desk. “So. Agent Barker.” Q flopped down onto his arms with his head on the desk with a groan. “Well don’t look too excited.” Bond lifted his hand and gently ran it through Q’s unruly mop. “Are you alright?”

Q sat back up, his glasses still slightly crooked on his face. “I feel horrible. What on earth would’ve happened if Mycroft hadn’t been there to stop the guards? One of MI6’s best agents, hell, one of the world’s best agents would’ve been tortured by us and probably killed. By us. And we helped put her there.”

Bond fixed Q’s glasses as he replied. “I think I have to take most of the responsibility for that. And she’s fine, nothing happened. I’m sure she won’t hold it against you.”

“I know. And I know that it was your fault.” Q shied away as Bond tried to move his hand to Q’s neck. “But I can’t just not feel bad. We thought she was working against us. You interrogated her, for Christ’s sake.”

“I did. And somehow, she still came to pull my arse out of the fire.” Bond withdrew his hand, allowing Q to relax. “Somehow I doubt she’ll do something just because you were following Mallory’s orders.”

“Well, if she does, I have two brothers, the British Government, an army of minions and an overprotective Double-Oh to look after me,” Q said with a tired smile.

James returned it. “As Barker just pointed out, I don’t think you’ll need us, darling.”

A knock at the door silenced their conversation. Bond stood, walked over, opened it, and revealed Moneypenny standing there. She had a wide grin on her face.

“Q, I think you’ll want to see this.”

“What?” Q asked from behind his computer.

“Yeager’s back. And he’s brought his little friends.”

“So?”

“They’ve apparently declared war on ‘Rosenberg.’” 006 popped his head up behind her.

Q quickly stood up, walking around the desk to join the three of them at the door. “Well, as a group of supervising officers, I say we go down and check the progress.”

They all smirked and left Q-Branch.

* * *  
“Well if it isn’t the little girl herself.”

Barker sighed. Yeager, the idiot, had found her in the gun range testing prototypes and has sent his five little cronies to clear out the rest of the recruits training inside. Fortunately, there were no instructors around. Well, fortunate for her. “What do you want, Yeager? Shoulder all healed up?”

“That’s the last time you land a hit on me, Rosenberg.” Yeager stepped up behind Barker as she finished checking her gun. “Why don’t you put the gun down?”

“Why? I’m working here, Yeager. You would do well to back off. Or do you want a repeat of what happened to Agent Kim?”

“Too scared to face me without a weapon, little girl?” Yeager mocked. “Scared I’ll take you down?”

Barker sighed. She put the gun down and turned to see Yeager smirking at her. “Why don’t you go bother someone who cares?”

“Because none of them betrayed their partner on a mission and made up the excuse that they fell asleep to get out of it.” Yeager’s cronies snickered as Barker’s eyes flashed with anger. “Not so confident now, are you?”

“Given that you know less about that than you know about standard hygiene, I’m still quite sure that you should back off, Yeager,” Barker said, “believe me. It’s better for the both of us.”

“Nah, I think you should have to answer for what you’ve done.” Yeager took a step towards Barker, cracking his knuckles. “And I think you know I’m right.”

“Careful, Yeager, you might pull something if you keep working that hard,” Barker said, “if I were you, I’d just save the energy and leave.”

“You think you’re funny, little girl?” Yeager growled as he took another step towards her.

“Fuck you, I’m hilarious.”

“We’ll see who’s laughing after I beat that pretty face of yours to a pulp.”

“Remember what happened last time you said that?” Barker smiled.

With that, Yeager launched himself at her. Instead of trying to tackle her, he aimed a fist at her face. Without taking her eyes off of his face, Barker caught hold of his hand and stopped his arm in its path. Yeager’s eyes widened. His arms trembled with exertion as he tried to wrench it away from Barker’s grasp. She kept her face blank, not bothering to smile. The range was silent except for Yeager’s panting. He looked around to see the others standing still, not knowing what to do. He glared at them.

“What…are…you…waiting for?” He heaved in between pants. “Get…her!”

They seemed nervous. One of them stepped forward, curling his fists at his sides. “Let him go. Now.” His voice wavered slightly. Barker cocked her head to the side as if considering his offer.

“No, I don’t think I will, thanks.”

The rest of them converged on her. Barker kicked Yeager hard in the chest, sending him crashing into the agent coming at her from the front. She grabbed the wrist of the agent attaching her from the left and dragged him towards her. Planting her other hand in the small of his back, she pushed him into the agent running at her on the right. The other two arrived at the same time, trying to use teamwork to take her down. She picked up two of the guns on the table by the barrels and swung her arms outwards. Two thumps followed by loud groaning signified the two had been dropped. She had struck them both on the side of the head with the butt of the guns, making sure not to cause too much damage. She placed the guns gently back down onto the table. The group of agents all lay on the floor in pain. Barker had hardly moved. She looked up and waved when the door opened and 007, 006, Moneypenny, and Q walked through. 006 blinked once.

“Yeah no, I’m glad I picked a new favorite.” He smirked as Yeager got to his feet and stared at the newcomers. 006 waved. “How’s the head, Yeager?”

“Just fine, sir.” Yeager took a step away from the smirking Double-Oh, his gaze flickering between Barker and 006.

“Really? Because you did just attack the agent who dislocated your shoulder, won the tournament, won the bonus round, has been sent out on a mission, rescued Bond, and was holding a loaded gun.” Yeager’s face was deadly pale. 006 smirked. “Are you sure you’re alright in the head?”

“Y-yes, sir, I’m fine. I didn’t know the gun was loaded.” Yeager was slowly trying to back away from the entire situation.

“Now that I find hard to believe.” 007 walked forward, past Yeager, and over to the table next to Barker. He picked up one of the firearms sitting by her side. “Was this the gun you were using, agent?”

“Yep.”

007 nodded and clicked off the safety. With a glance at Yeager, he pointed it down the range. He pulled the trigger three times. Three shots rang out. Three new holes appeared in the target. He looked back down at the gun in his hands.

“Sights are a bit off. Otherwise perfectly functional.” He set the gun back down - making sure the safety was on - and turned back to Yeager, hands crossed in front of him. “Gun was loaded. Q, remind me what the standard protocol is for the gun ranges?”

“Treat every gun as loaded at all times, regardless of other factors,” Q said with a smile. 007 nodded and looked back at Yeager. Yeager shook as he backed away. The other agents, sensing the tension, stood up quickly and hurried to stand behind the cowering recruit. The one who had threatened Barker earlier spoke up from the back of the group.

“It’s not our fault. She came after us first. Threatened us with a gun. You’ve got to believe us.”

007 raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to look up at the camera in the corner of the room, its red light flashing as it recorded the room. He looked back down at the recruits. Yeager was whispering angrily at the one who had spoken, continuing to slowly edge backward.

“Will that camera footage tell us the same story?” 007’s voice was calm, even, but it carried a hint of steel underneath. The agents began to move slightly faster. “Now where on earth are you off to?”

“Stand down, 007.” Barker’s voice halted their retreat. Yeager furrowed his brow, confused. Surely the Double-Oh would just dismiss that, right? He was even more surprised when Bond nodded and took a step backward. Barker walked towards the shaking recruit, making sure to walk slow enough for him to get increasingly nervous. When she stopped in front of him, she cocked her head and looked at him. “I’m sure Yeager was just confused.”

“Y-yeah, that’s it, c-c-confused.” Yeager continued to back away.

“Stop.” He froze. His friends, however, made quick their retreat and hustled out the door at the other end of the range. Without his entourage, Yeager seemed to shrink before her gaze. “Why are you shaking?”

“No reason,” Yeager answered much too quickly. His voice was at least a few octaves higher than normal. He cleared his throat quickly and took another step backward.

“Strange. You should have Medical do a check on that. It could lead to something much more harmful.” Barker’s face was full of sympathy that 007 knew was all show. She didn’t give a damn about how much she was terrifying Yeager right now.

“I will.” Yeager cautiously edged towards the back door. “Right now, in fact. I’ll go do that now.”

“Why the rush?” Barker tipped her head and smiled. “Since when does the big tough Agent Yeager voluntarily go to Medical? If I didn’t know better, agent, I’d say you were scared.”

“Scared?” Yeager smiled uneasily. “I’m not scared.”

“Good.” Barker brought her hands up in a flash. Yeager flinched. Barker frowned, before tightening her ponytail and flicking it over her shoulder. “Are you sure?” Yeager looked like he was about to be sick. His hands were trembling. Barker’s eyes took in every little tremor. “You’re shaking again.”

“Barker!” R’s voice came from behind. The people in the range looked over to see R watching with a vaguely amused expression from the door.

“Do stop traumatizing the agent. We need him alive for this next test.”

“If you insist.” Barker let her gaze flit back to Yeager who looked more relieved than she’d ever seen him. With a quick jerk of her head, she sent him scampering across the range. 007 caught him by the arm as he passed. Yeager looked up in fear. 007 was careful to keep his voice loud enough for the rest of the group to hear.

“Next time you decide to gang up on an agent, make sure you know who you’re up against, alright? Do everyone on your side a favor.”

Yeager nodded furiously. “Yes, sir. Got it. Won’t attack Rosenberg anymore.”

Bond smirked. “Like I said. Know who you’re up against. Her name’s not actually Rosenberg. Didn’t you hear what R just said?”

Yeager paled. “Yes, sir.”

“And what did she just say?”

“Not to traumatize me anymore? That they need me alive for the next test?”

“Before that, agent.”

“She said…” Yeager trailed off. “She said: Barker.”

Bond smiled. “Yes. Barker. So maybe pick your battles more wisely from now on, yes?”

Yeager couldn’t move. “That’s Agent Barker? _The_ Agent Barker?”

“In the flesh. Now run along.”

Yeager couldn’t have moved any faster if he was on fire. In a flash, he was out the door and down the corridor. R shot 007 a scolding look which he returned with a shrug. R softened and laughed.

“I’ll admit, that was fun to watch. And he did deserve it.”

“Damn straight.” Barker had walked back over to rejoin 007 at the table. “Still your favorite sir?” She was smirking at 006.

“Hell no. I’m claiming Bradbury.”

Moneypenny and Q had doubled over by the time Barker had finished talking, and 006 looked at them and rolled his eyes.

“What are they laughing about?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Barker winked at Bond before continuing to address the Double-Oh across the room. “Personally I thought Yeager was a good fit for you.”

“Really?” 006 folded his arms across his chest and stared down the agent across from him. “And why is that?”

“Because you both have equally bad haircuts.”

007, Moneypenny, and Q were still laughing ten minutes later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahahah bad haircuts amirite


	7. The Follow-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new piece of information from 005 has Barker, Bond, and 006 off on a new mission. Right into the heart of an enemy auction.

Luckily for Agent Yeager, the next phase kept them busy enough that the agents didn’t have time for his antics. Q had other missions to outfit and prototypes to test out. 006 and 007 were working to help test said prototypes, and doing small missions to help sort out smaller issues. And Agent Barker was working with Moneypenny to help narrow down possible targets and plans for taking them out. This carried on for a few weeks, MI6 slowly lapsing back into its normal - relatively speaking - routine. The agents worked tirelessly to try and figure out a strategy to cut the head off once and for all. But working around the clock meant that none of the agents were willing to talk to many others if it wasn’t strictly necessary. So that was how they all ended up in Q’s office one evening after one of the prototype tests.

“Well, we should be able to get these developed before too long.” Q was checking over the mangled metal target the prototype had so effectively taken out. “Luckily, they’re relatively inexpensive to make and we can mass produce them.”

“So does that mean you won’t be mad when I lose it?” Bond reached across the table and picked up the little device. It looked similar to a little revolving light one would see on top of a car or taxi. “What does it even do?”

“If you keep playing with it, nothing at all,” Q chided as he took the device out of Bond’s hand. “And I’m always mad when you lose things.”

Bond smiled. “Not normally for long.”

Q narrowed his eyes. “You’re despicable.”

“And you love me for it.”

006 walked through the door, catching sight of the object in Q’s hands. “Is that the thing that R was bragging about?”

Q sighed. “Which one?”

“The one that took out a solid steel target?” 006 closed the door and held out his hand to accept the device.

Q held onto it. “Yes. And neither of you are getting your hands on it until it’s assigned to you.”

006 looked at 007, smirking. “Bet I’ll get it before you do.”

“Doubt it.” Bond shot a smirk right back.

“Says the man who was the last to receive a palm print coded firearm.”

“Says the man who’s only knowledge of tech is what goes boom and what doesn’t.”

“Ahem.” Q’s cough stopped their argument. He raised his eyebrows at the two Double-Ohs, who by now had turned their gazes elsewhere. “Are you two quite finished?”

“Yes, sir.” They spoke at the same time, sounding a bit like two children just told off by their mother. Moneypenny’s arrival disrupted some of the tension in the room. She looked exhausted, and Bond chuckled as she stomped past them and collapsed into one of the chairs in front of Q’s desk. “Bad day, was it?”

“You have no idea.” Moneypenny’s voice was muffled slightly by the hand on her forehead.

“Barker driving you insane?”

“Why do you immediately think it was my fault?” Barker walked in behind Moneypenny and shut the door behind her. “Hey, Q,” she nodded.

“Barker.” Q looked over at Moneypenny. “Mind telling us why Eve is so tired if you are not to blame?”

Barker’s shoulder’s dropped as she walked around to the back of the office and leaned against the wall. “Your brother. Apparently, he has some issue regarding stating matters without one requiring a dictionary to understand the overwhelming percentage of what he says.”

Q laughed. “That’s entirely understandable. I’m sometimes at a loss myself.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that. He’s bound to do it more often,” Barker said with a sigh.

Moneypenny spoke up from her chair. “Barker, you at least know enough of it to follow along with the vague idea of what he’s saying.” She looked up at Bond. “I could get one word here or there.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Bond looked at Q. “If you can understand our dear Quartermaster, then I’m sure you did just fine.”

Moneypenny huffed. “I’d like to see you try. Holmes is much worse than Q is. I think my brain exploded. And not in a good way.”

“I swear to god, if one more person starts talking like a bloody thesaurus, I will send them to Medical for three weeks,” Barker groaned and her head dropped to hit the wall behind her. 007 caught Q’s eye. They both looked at 006 and smiled. 006 started.

“Why, agent, I was woefully unaware of your passionate disinterest in those individuals such as ourselves who have a tendency to develop vocabularies that exceed those who prefer monosyllabic conversations littered with simplistic language conventions.”

Barker slowly raised her head and fixed 006 with the coldest stare she could muster.

“Excuse me?” Her voice was dangerously low.

Moneypenny smiled, catching onto what they were trying to do. And she joined in with great enthusiasm. “Oh, but my dear. As to be expected, those who desire such trivial conversations tend to become quite pugnacious in the event of a much more culturally significant exchange between colleagues or even mere acquaintances. Your quarrelsome nature at this particular moment lends a certain element of truth to the trend of behavior common in simpletons such as yourself.”

Barker closed her eyes and pressed her hands hard to her temples. “No. Not now, dammit. Also, Eve, you’re a liar.”

Q picked up the trend with a wink at Moneypenny. “Antagonistic behavior is not to be tolerated within this establishment. Maybe your little contentious comment should be treated as what it most likely is, an unconvincing slur intended to render those who can pontificate in a sophisticated manner successfully in a state where they no longer have the desire to?” He smiled as Barker groaned softly into her hands. “Shall I take that as a signal that you acquiesce to my hypothesis? I would urge you to do so, given the fact that it is unlikely, should I keep speaking, that your little mind should be able to continue to grasp the correct nuances of this deliberation.”

Barker looked ready to explode. For a minute, 007 thought she was going to. But then she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and her face settled back into its traditional blank expression. She remained silent. Bond decided to push a little farther.

“Darling, are you quite alright? Your complexion seems slightly flushed, is this experience much too taxing for you? I’m sure that the remainder of the group will gladly reduce themselves to a much more manageable level to indulge you, even if we are all rendered permanently incapacitated due to the unfortunate yet imminent drop in collective IQ.” Bond smiled innocently, his voice taking on a condescending tone he knew she found annoying. “Of course, you’re more than welcome to flee if you feel too intimidated by the prospect. I’m certain no individual here will find you at fault. But by all means, you are at liberty to attempt to converse in such a manner, I can assure you anything will be accepted given your, shall we say, unalloyed tendencies in terms of speaking.”

“You seem to be a little flummoxed when it comes to my reluctance to speak, sir.” Barker finally broke her state of silence. “It is not for fear that I will not live up to the standards so graciously established by yourselves, but that I will instead insist that you surpass them.

“Those who prefer a more complex and ornamented form of conversing also tend to use the over-embellishments as a feeble venture to imply they have more wisdom than they truly possess. It is instead quite common for those who do carry a certain poise and intelligence level to not seek to prove it by utilizing language they themselves do not understand, but to simply recognize where aforementioned language would typically be utilized and react accordingly.

“Due to your insistence to the contrary, I fear that not only have you greatly exaggerated your proficiency regarding the use of an extended vocabulary most commonly found in conferences far beyond your intelligence level, but furthermore you have employed the technique simply to aggravate a colleague based on a relatively insignificant matter you are only aware of because of a dismissive comment. This counteracts the use of such vocabulary in a blatant display of immaturity and seldom used pettiness.”

Barker stopped, smiling at Bond. Bond was speechless, for once. Q laughed out loud.

“I can see why you and my brother get along so well.” He slumped down in his chair. “You both sound the bloody same if you want to.”

Moneypenny laughed as well. “That was incredible. I had no idea how tiring that would be.” She passed a hand through her hair. “And now I’m even more exhausted.”

“I think my brain just exploded too.” 006 was massaging his temples, looking down at the floor. “Ouch.”

“So can we all agree to never do that again?” Barker said from her position at the back of the room.

“Yes,” came the unanimous reply. Bond shook his head. “I never thought I would get told off like that. And I thought Q was annoyingly posh.”

“Watch it,” Q scolded.

The office slowly lapsed into a state of content silence, the agents there happy to stay with no small talk needed to keep the quiet from being awkward. 006 sat down in the chair next to Moneypenny. Q remained in his own chair, leaning back to comfortably recline against the swing-back. Moneypenny had crossed her legs and was resting her chin on her hand. Bond leaned against the wall next to the door. And Barker was still at the back, her arms crossed. They stayed like that for about ten minutes, the sounds of keyboards and chatter from the minions outside the only thing breaking the silence. A knock on the door roused them from their state of fatigue. Tanner walked through, stopping halfway in.

“Am I interrupting something?” He looked suspiciously around the room. “You’re all so quiet.”

“Not at all, sir. Just taking a break.” Q smiled wearily from his position. Sighing, he sat up and straightened his glasses. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I’m afraid I have an assignment for you, Q.” Tanner came the rest of the way into the room, placing a file on Q’s desk. Q rolled his eyes.

“Has Mallory not heard of e-mail?” He asked. “Surely there’s no reason for you to come down yourself?”

“Unfortunately, I wanted to talk to you about that.” This caught everyone’s attention. 006 leaned forward and rested his weight on his knees. Moneypenny took her head off her hand. Barker and Bond both took a step forward. “Mallory’s decided for this next assignment, we’re sending multiple agents at the same time to the same place with the same mission.”

“Why’s that so peculiar?”

“Because it’s 006, 007, 005, and Agent Barker,” Tanner finished with a sigh, “they’re being paired up, and each team is taking a different plan of attack.”

Moneypenny spoke up from her chair. “What plan of attack? Barker and I haven’t come up with anything definitive yet.” Barker nodded her head in agreement. “And definitely not one that involved another agent.”

“Well, apparently Mallory finds that we have more than enough intel to come up with a strategy at the urging of 005.” Tanner stuck his hands in his pockets. “And, he thinks we have to do it now.”

“Why now? What’s so important?” Bond said. He knew that if Mallory thought it was urgent it couldn’t possibly end well.

“Remember that auction you went to?” Tanner turned to look at the Double-Oh. At Bond’s nod, he continued. “Well, apparently they’re holding another one in Moscow. And this time, we’ve been able to find a list of what’s going to be sold.”

“What kind of things?” Barker said uneasily.

“So far, we don’t know what some of them actually are. There are a few artifacts, a few toxins in vials, but the majority are these little disk-like things that are just listed with an identification number. And they’ve attracted quite a crowd.” Tanner looked back at Q. “I’ve sent you a few pictures, but we haven’t been able to identify what they are or what they do.”

“I’ll take a look,” Q sighed and started typing again on his computer. “Seems like it’s back to work.”

The rest of the agents funneled out, leaving Q alone in his office. Tanner spoke as he led the group back out through Q-Branch towards the lift. “You’ll all be reporting to Mallory, but in your respective teams. He’ll tell you which those teams are.” He glanced at Moneypenny. “Is 005 up there already?”

“Should be, I sent her a memo.” Moneypenny looked at her phone. “Yep, she’s up there.”

“Good.” Tanner looked at the lift doors as they slid closed and the lift started up. “Hopefully, this will help us get an edge over them.”

“Let’s hope so,” Bond muttered under his breath. Barker caught his eye and nodded. She looked away and back down at the floor. The agents remained silent for the remainder of the ride, looking up when the soft ding caused them to look forward again. The group walked slowly forward, Tanner turning and going into his office just to the right of M’s door. Moneypenny sat down at her desk, nodding at 005 who was sitting across from her. The other two Double-Ohs received a nod much the same. Barker nodded once, but 005 turned her head away and stared at the wall. Barker saw Bond looking at her and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. The silence that fell was much different from the one that had fallen in Q-Branch earlier, this one laced with tension and competing personalities. It was almost a relief when Mallory opened his door.

“005 and Agent Barker, through here.”

005 stood and walked through. Barker followed a beat behind. When she shut the door, the three agents left in the relative safety of Moneypenny’s office exchanged a look. If those two were going to work together, then this mission was going to be a lot more complicated than they had previously assumed.

* * *  
“Sir, with all due respect, is this really the best idea?” 005 said once she heard the door close. “I’m sure there’s another alternative.”

“Actually, there is,” Mallory said as he sat down in his chair, “however, I think this would be a good idea considering you two will have to get over this little dispute of yours and learn how to work together professionally.”

“Of course,” Barker answered. She had adopted her traditional position of hands clasped behind her back, head up and feet shoulder-width apart. 005 crossed her arms and remained slightly in front. Mallory nodded and raised his eyebrows at 005.

“Good. Now, for this mission, you two, along with 006 and 007, will be sent to Moscow. You two will be posing as a pair of sisters who are attending the auction on behalf of your elderly father who is unable to attend.”

“Do we have a specific person in mind for this father?” 005 asked. “Wouldn’t we run the risk of one of the other patrons knowing who he is?”

“No, unfortunately, we do not,” Mallory stated, “however, Q has been informed of your covers and I’m sure he will find a suitable candidate and appropriate aliases.”

“Should be someone with a history of chasing trophy wives,” 005 muttered under her breath. Barker showed no reaction.

“When you arrive, you will focus solely on obtaining one of the disks they are advertising as the main headliner. Try to obtain it in one piece and bring it back in the same way.” Mallory slid the file over to 005, who picked it up and opened it. She scanned it and her eyebrows furrowed.

“Do we know what the disks do?” 005 said, frowning as she looked back up at Mallory. “If we’re to be sent in to retrieve them I’d like to know what they are.”

“Unfortunately, that’s why you’re going.” Mallory met 005’s question with a slight expression of irritation. “We don’t know what they do, but they’ve quite the reputation. Recent transmissions that have been intercepted describe the devices as the next great step in the field of interrogation and pleasure.”

“Sounds disturbing,” 005 said, passing the file back to Mallory.

“Yes, it most certainly does. Which is why we have to figure out what they do and how to stop them before they get too widely distributed.” Mallory set the file back down on the desk and folded his hands in front of him. “Once the auction is over, you will be driven to the airfield and flown back. I would appreciate it if this mission didn’t end in explosions. But make sure you get one of those devices.”

“Understood,” Barker said.

“Yeah, alright,” 005 huffed after a minute, “just one question.”

Mallory leaned back in his chair which squeaked as it took the brunt of his weight. “Yes?”

“What was the other alternative?”

Mallory smiled.

“You would’ve been her mother.”

“That’s hilarious.” 005 spun easily on her heel and walked out past Agent Barker. She opened the door and began the trek down to Q-Branch. Barker followed shortly behind after a sharp nod to Mallory and a slight shake of her head towards the three agents still in Moneypenny’s office. As 006 and 007 began to go into Mallory’s office, she stopped Bond and leaned slightly forward.

“Did Q say anything about intercepted transmissions?”

“No,” Bond said with a shake of his head.

Barker frowned and continued walking forward. She joined 005 at the lifts. As the doors slid smoothly open, the two women stepped forward and turned so their backs were to the solid steel wall. As they descended into the depths of Six, Barker broke the tense silence.

“I actually thought he was old enough to be both of our fathers.”

005 looked over to where Barker was still facing forwards. When she had turned her head to meet 005’s gaze, her mouth widened in a small smile. 005 returned it and gestured in front of her as the doors slid back open. The two walked side by side up to where R was standing. R glanced at the pair before placing two identical black cases on the table.

“Hello, 005,” she greeted the Double-Oh first, opening the kit. “Standard Walther coded to your palm print of course. Earpiece, linked to mine and Agent Barker’s. And finally,” she held up a thin silver knife, “something to improvise with if it becomes necessary.”

“As always, you Q-Branch people really do deliver.” 005 smirked in satisfaction as she glanced over her kit and tucked it under her arm. R turned to Barker who was standing patiently on the other side.

“For you, Agent Barker, something a bit simpler. Glock 26 and earpiece.” R stepped back, rooting around amongst the piles of paper on the side of her desk. “Sorry it’s not much, but I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“On the contrary, it’s perfect. Thank you, R.” Barker inspected the gun before carefully closing the case and holding it under her clasped hands.

“Glad you approve,” R smiled, exclaiming in triumph as she produced two matching envelopes from a folder on her desk. “And here,” she announced as she passed the envelopes to the agents, “are your new I.D.s, plenty of spending money, for the auction,” she narrowed her eyes at 005 who was not so subtly opening the envelope. She stopped and plastered the trademark Double-Oh ‘innocent’ look on her face. R shook her head and continued. “And of course, passports and plane tickets.”

“Sounds like fun,” 005 said. She winked and turned to Agent Barker. “Shall we, sis?”

“Thank you, R.” Barker turned back to 005, a small smirk on her face. “Age before beauty, my dear.”

005 laughed and led the way out of Q-Branch. The smiles on their faces were met with more than a few scared looks and frightened scuttling. Six had trained them well, normally when two high-ranking agents are smiling at you, you were in trouble. Little did they know, that was actually the less threatening way that exchange could’ve played out.

* * *  
On the plane - courtesy of Six - the two women had looked over the files Q had given them regarding their father. Or, rather, a man who was a notorious womanizer and had funded Russian nuclear efforts during the Cold War. Fortunately, his name wasn’t one of the of the ones that had made big enough contributions to be instantly recognized. Therefore, it would grant his ‘daughters’ immediate access without any suspicion and a relatively low risk that they would be recognized. 005 snorted and raised her eyebrow as she turned over a page.

“Geez, this guy is disgusting.” She crinkled her nose. “How in the world is it possible to be this disgusting?”

“I don’t know.” Barker was reading over the list of ‘deeds’ the man apparently owned. “I didn’t know that there were this many infractions you could commit and not be locked up immediately.”

“Well, you’d be surprised.” 005 closed the file and set it aside. It was just them on the plane, 006 and 007 were flying in separately. She leaned back and looked at the much smaller woman across from her. Barker was interesting. She definitely hadn’t been the snooty show-off 005 had expected. She was funny, she was good at her job, she was smart as hell. “How’d you do it, huh?”

“Sorry?” Barker looked up, slightly confused by the Double-Oh across from her. “Do what?”

“Disappear.” 005’s eyes were fixed on hers. And given 005’s reputation, Barker wasn’t exactly sure why she was asking. Barker carefully closed the file and set it aside.

“Which element of it?” She tipped her head to the side and waited.

  
“Getting off of Six’s radar.” 005 looked at her nails. “Given the agents we had, it should have been nearly impossible.”

“As with all things, the key word here is ‘nearly’. And I didn’t exactly just vanish. A few people knew where I’d gone. Boothroyd. Old M. A few other agents. But,” Barker shrugged her shoulders, “time takes its toll. And with them gone from Six, my secret was gone too.”

“But we could’ve tracked you.” 005’s expression held no malice, just interest.

“Well, like I said. My secret went with them, but the legacy of Agent Barker lived on. Someone started the rumor that it was a male agent, recruited as a young boy that had risen through the ranks.” Barker snorted. “Luckily, it was believed.”

“Let me guess,” 005 said, smiling, “it was you who started that rumor.”

Barker smiled. “Guilty as charged, 005.”

The Double-Oh laughed. “You’re good, Barker. But, as you know, being male does have one distinct advantage.”

“What, not having to put up with people hitting on you all the time?” Barker rolled her eyes.

“No, it takes them a quarter of the time to get ready as it takes us.” 005 stood and walked towards one of the doors in the rear of the plane.

Barker groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

* * *  
The sleek black car pulled up to the hotel building, lit with thousands of lights in a glowing marquee visible even through the thick fog. The doorman walked up and pulled open the back door. 005 exited first, clad in a thick brown fur coat covering a form-fitting pink dress with accents of red lace. Barker followed soon after, wearing a black pea coat and a black dress draped with silk from one shoulder. Both women nodded gratefully to the doorman who ushered them inside the building. Inside, another person took their coats as they walked through the large double doors to the main room.

The room was crowded, lots of people milling around. The air was smoky; it was somewhat hard to see the opposite end. Across the way, a massive stage had been erected with a raised podium in the center and a long table directly behind it. On the table, the various objects for sale had been laid out. People were wandering around, some going up to the front of the stage and peering at the items on the table, but they were quickly ushered away by the intimidating guards blocking the entrances to the stage. A quick glance around proved there were lots of these guards around. Two were stationed at the doors. Two more stood at the other exits around the room. And one was standing by the long buffet table next to the doors. Hanging from the ceiling, there were many chandeliers with various protruding armatures and perilously placed light bulbs. Every so often, they would creak as they swung lightly on their chains, clouding the illumination streams with dust. The lamps on each chandelier also contained little burning sticks of incense, smoke curling delicately from the glowing ends. These seemed to be the source of the smell in the room. It was a wonder no smoke alarms were going off.

Barker scanned the room as they walked in, noting there were no cameras to be seen anywhere. She swore softly under her breath, quiet enough for no one else to hear. That meant R would not have any visual on the auction, and neither would Q. She didn’t know what 006 and 007 were undercover as, compartmentalization of information and all that. She caught 005 looking around as well, seemingly in the same boat.

“What should we do, R?” She asked quietly, pretending to fix her hair.

“The auction won’t start for a few more minutes.” R’s voice came clearly through the earpiece. “Mill around, try to figure out who else might be interested in what.”

“So sis, should we go and sample some of the food?” 005 took Barker gently by the arm and steered towards the table.

“Careful dear, too much and you won’t be able to get out of the dress,” Barker smirked before watching 005 choose one of the little cakes on a tray. She herself picked up a napkin and placed it in her little black clutch, before picking another and placing a small tart on top of it. The two moved away from the table, eating their desserts. As they wound their way through the crowd, Barker deposited her now empty napkin into a trash can and gently wiped off her mouth. 005 soon finished hers and did the same. The women continued walking around, indulging a few people in casual conversation, careful to omit key personal details. Eventually, they made their way to the front of the crowd and to the stage. 005 winked at one of the bouncers and giggled as she leaned forward over the railing to look at the objects on display. Barker did the same, making sure to arch her back as she looked for the devices sitting on the table. As the guards approached they both drew back and scampered off into the crowd. Once they were a safe distance away, 005 muttered into her mirror.

“The devices are displayed in a small glass box with a number printed on the side. They don’t look like much at all.”

“I know,” R sighed, “Unfortunately, there’s no way for me to see unless you send me a picture.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Barker nudged 005, who looked over to see a guard wrenching a phone out of a buyer’s hand and throwing it on the ground. He stamped his foot down hard on top of it, twisting his ankle to ensure the phone was properly decimated. “Looks like this auction is a strict ‘no photography’ affair.”

“I was afraid of that.” R’s irritation was easily heard. “You’ll have to make do. Luckily, the sales should start anytime soon.”

“What’s the plan for bidding?” Barker said as she pivoted slowly, looking the room over. “No ticket booth this time.”

“Throw everything you have into it. We want one intact, but if you can get more than one I’m sure we won’t be complaining.”

“Will do,” 005 answered, “005, going dark.”

“Agent Barker, going dark.”

“Acknowledged, 005, Agent Barker. Go dark.”

The agents switched off their earpieces and mixed themselves back in amongst the crowd. An announcer stood up on the stage and began talking. The crowd quickly quieted save for a few rustles of clothing as people got situated. Barker felt someone bump her arm and turned, expecting to see 005 but found herself staring at Bond. She must have looked quite surprised because Bond laughed.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“What happened to ‘no contact with the other team’, agent?” Barker was careful to keep her words low, even though she wasn’t mad. Unfortunately, Bond knew she wasn’t.

“No cameras, both teams have gone dark, and it’s a crowded room,” he smirked, “no one needs to know about it.”

Barker rolled her eyes. “How do they put up with you?”

“Same way they put up with you.” Barker’s expression wrenched another laugh out of the Double-Oh. He sobered after a second. “I also had a question.”

“Yes?” Barker turned her attention back to the man on the stage. He had stopped droning and was auctioning off one of the artifacts.

“Why did you ask about intercepted transmissions?” Bond stepped slightly closer, their shoulders almost brushing. “Mallory said they’d been traced by Q-Branch.”

“Because why didn’t Q or R mention it?” Barker felt Bond stiffen next to her. “If it was so important, why wouldn’t they mention it? Q looked surprised when Tanner came down with the new mission.”

“Maybe it was another one of the minions who found it?” Bond said. Barker scoffed.

“And since when does one of the minions do something without telling Q about it?”

Bond fell silent. As the current item on sale was finally sold, he tugged on his cuffs and turned to go, something about needing to go back and keep an eye on Alec. Barker nodded as he walked away. 005, a few people away, caught her eye and furrowed her brow. Barker shook her head, signaling everything was fine. Both women turned their attention back to the front. The devices they wanted were about to go on sale.

The auctioneer lifted one of the many glass boxes on the table into the air, letting it catch the light from the many chandeliers. The crowd drew a collective breath as a little clink sounded through the almost silent room when the device fell back against the other side of the glass box. He smiled and started speaking.

“This little thing. So small, so innocent looking, yet you’d be astounded by what it can do. Only a few circuits and wires and the results are amazing. But don’t take my word for it. Find out for yourself, for the small price of five hundred thousand. Do I have five hundred?”

* * *  
“Well, that was a success.” 005 walked out of the building arm in arm with Barker, both smiling with pride. A black car was waiting as they strode down the street. 005 smirked as she caught the keys tossed her way as Barker swung her purse by its chain from one finger. The two climbed into the car and pulled smoothly away. As they drove down the road, Barker tapped her earpiece, turning it back on.

“Barker back online. It’s done. We’ve got them.”

She was met with a burst of static. She tried again.

“R? You there? It’s Barker.”

Nothing but static. A laugh from the other side of the car drew her attention. Barker slowly turned her head to see 005 smirking at her.

“I honestly didn’t think it would be this easy.”

Barker didn’t have time to respond before a needle was plunged into her neck and she lost consciousness. She caught one glimpse of 005’s predatory smile before her world went black.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp*
> 
> next chapter's gonna have the majority of the Gross Shit™ so just heads-up


	8. The Chink in the Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barker gets tortured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MASSIVE GORE WARNING

The world was black. And then it was white.

When Barker opened her eyes, she shut them again almost immediately. The blinding white lights made her head hurt, which was probably intentional. The surrounding walls were spotless, not a mark on them. The way they reflected the light made it difficult for someone not accustomed to the environment to focus. Barker was strung up by her arms, held aloft at a painful angle by heavy chains and iron shackles. Her dress was gone, only her bra and underwear remained. Her bare feet were barely touching the floor. This made it impossible for her to sleep, as it put too much stress on her lungs and her diaphragm couldn’t work properly. A matching pair of shackles tied around her ankles kept her from pulling herself upwards or from swinging her legs out towards her attackers. Simply put, she wasn’t going anywhere.

A slow approach of footsteps sounded from outside the door, signaling the approach of someone. Who, Barker didn’t know. But she couldn’t say she was totally surprised when the door opened and 005 waltzed through, still as immaculate as she had been at the hotel. As Barker watched, 005 stopped in the doorway and propped one hand on her hip.

“Well, sis, I’m afraid this is where you get off.” She smirked as she shut the door and leisurely approached the strung up agent. “We can’t have you running around MI6 like this, can we? And we certainly can’t let them get their grubby little hands on our prototypes.”

“Did you just confess, agent?” Barker was shocked at the state of her own voice. It sounded like a strangled frog, gritty as sandpaper and incredibly hoarse. “That should make for an interesting conversation with Mallory.”

“Oh darling, you don’t think they know we’ve gone, do you?” 005 laughed as she circled behind Barker. “As far as they know, you and I are back on that plane flying home to mommy and daddy with their little presents in tow. Even the other two think we’re with them.”

“Should we see how long that lasts?” Barker tried to turn her head to look at 005 but stopped once a hand wrapped itself around the back of her neck and squeezed, cutting off her attempt and causing her to tense up in pain.

“You’re so naïve,” 005 hissed in Barker’s ear, “by the time they figure out we’re gone, it will be far, far too late. But I’m sure we can send them a part of you to bury once we’ve destroyed their weak little plans.” She relinquished her hold and continued circling her prey.

“This seems like an awfully convoluted plot that caused a lot of trouble for everyone involved.” Barker rotated her wrists in the chains, making them rattle slightly together. “If you just wanted to kill me, you could’ve been a lot more efficient about it.”

005 smiled in a way that made Barker’s skin crawl. “Who said anything about wanting to kill you?” She began to slowly draw nearer, relishing as Barker tried to back away as much as she could without putting too much strain on her already tired body. “You think we bothered setting up that stupid little auction, getting Bond to suspect you, capturing him, and luring you to that hotel just to kill you?” She laughed, baring her teeth as a shark would before a kill. “No. I might kill you, eventually.” She reached forward and raised Barker’s chin so she was forced to look her in the eye. “But what you really are is an outlet. My own personal punching bag. You won't be a legend anymore, I will. You're mine. You know what I’m capable of.”

Barker leaned back, pulling her head out of 005’s grasp. “And you know what I’m capable of.”

The two women eyed each other for a minute before 005 locked her fingers around Barker’s right forearm in an iron grip. Reaching inside the top of her dress, she produced a little blade which she waved in front of Barker’s face. Barker recognized it as the one R had given her before they left Q-Branch. 005 smiled.

“Recognize it? R said it was a little something to improvise with.” She placed the tip of the knife on the point where the bottom of Barker’s neck met her shoulder. She slowly dragged the knife down over the bumps of her collarbones and ended it in the cavity between her breasts. A streak of red bubbled around the path the blade took, slowly ebbing from beneath her skin and spreading over her chest. As 005 looked back up, Barker opened her eyes and stared back. 005 met her gaze without fear. “I think it’ll do.”

A matching cut was drawn on Barker’s opposite side, the blood slowly seeping over her chest. The knife was drawn under the swell of her bra, tracing just under one rib up to the place where her sternum ended, opening a large cut that swept over her abdomen. The point of the knife flicked upwards to just under Barker’s chin, forcing her head back until the full column of her neck was exposed. It drew a thin line with practiced precision down her throat, careful not to slit any essential blood vessels as it opened along its seams. Blood trickled down to collect in the hollow of her throat, making her skin glisten a murky red. The cut was perilously close to a throbbing pulse-point, barely an inch away. Barker’s chest heaved with the effort of remaining quiet, not wanting to give her captor the satisfaction of making her scream. At last, the knife was withdrawn and 005 gently wiped it off onto a cloth retrieved from inside her bag. As she stepped away, she smiled at the limp figure hanging by the chains.

“Good start. Always nice to see what I’m working with before the real fun begins.”

The door swung shut with a muffled click. Barker closed her eyes and tried to ignore the pain coursing through her body. The night was long, sleepless, and painful.

The next day didn’t feel like one. The only signal that it was, in fact, a new day was that when 005 arrived, she had changed out of her party apparel and was dressed casually in cargo pants, a fitted top, and blazer. She came in, slamming the door open and causing Barker to involuntarily jerk at the noise. She smiled as Barker winced, then spoke.

“You know you really shouldn’t put too much stress on your muscles,” she said in a chiding tone, “it’s not good for you.”

“Since when do you care about my wellbeing?” Barker inclined her head only slightly, maintaining her indifferent mood. “I was under the impression I was your own personal punching bag.”

“Oh, you are.” 005 shrugged off her blazer and deposited it over one end of the table. She walked forward and placed her fingertips on Barker’s stomach, just below one of the incisions she had made yesterday. She pressed down slightly, dragging the skin down and reopening the cut. As new beads of blood appeared on her skin, Barker tensed and winced once more. 005 watched with a small smirk. “I just want to be the cause of all your pain.” She walked behind Barker and wheeled a cart over to the side where Barker could see. She picked up the crowbar and walked back over. “Speaking of which, shall we pick up where we left off?”

“If that’s the only reason you woke up this morning, I’m dreadfully sorry for you, darling.”

A savage blow to the ribs cut off Barker’s voice, resulting in a choking noise and a soft exhalation as her body slowly recovered from the hit. As Barker tried to slowly breathe in, she found herself coughing. She tried again, but the same thing happened. A quick glance down revealed what she’d expected. One of her ribs had broken from the impact. 005 seemed to enjoy every minute of Barker’s discomfort. She hefted the crowbar once more, this time bringing it down hard onto her kneecap. Her leg gave out and she stumbled slightly as the chains holding her arms pulled tautly and then slackened once more. Grimacing, Barker slowly got back up, resting most of her weight on her other leg. 005 circled behind her and swung the crowbar at the agent’s back. It met her spine with a loud thwack, causing Barker to lose balance and stumbled slightly forward. A large bruise was forming when the crowbar had connected by the time she forced herself back upright. This had lasted for barely a moment before she was jostled roughly by another blow. This carried on for what seemed like an eternity, each blow landing in somewhere different, a mixture of pained breaths and sharp cracks penetrating the otherwise silent room.

At last, the beating stopped. 005 tossed the crowbar back onto the table, breathing slightly faster. While she looked like she had just been for a moderate workout, Barker looked as if she had struggled through a war zone. Her body was mottled with various shades of black, blue, purple, and yellow, some bruises swollen and dotted with specks of blood. 005 surveyed her work with a confident smirk, sometimes reaching out and prodding a particular lump or bruise. These always elicited a groan or a sharp inhale from the strung up woman. When she had completed her circle, she lifted Barker’s head once more, smiling at the unhidden rage staring back at her. She pressed the tip of her index finger hard to the pulse point behind Barker’s ear until the look of rage became contorted with pain. A chuckle escaped as the woman dropped her hand away from Barker and turned to go, picking up her blazer as she walked past. She called out as she exited, stopping near the door to look back over her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll save the best for last.”

* * *  
The next session started with a repeat of the last two. First, a scalpel was placed on the inside of Barker’s right elbow and drawn over her arm, slicing through her skin into the blood vessels beneath. Again, muscles and major veins were avoided, but the amount of blood dripping out was still significant. Other, more shallow nicks covered Barker’s heaving chest, all combining together to paint her chest with a swirl of blood and sweat. As they opened, the bruises on her skin made the process even more taxing, as they let the cuts open slightly more than the surrounding flesh, allowing even more blood to flow. Eventually, 005 worked her way down to Barker’s lower abdomen, placing cuts around her hips and navel. The skin was stretched over the bones, as Barker had been given no food and only a little water to keep her alive. The scalpel skittered over her hip bones as it was dug into her flesh, jerking small breaths and muffled gasps from the strung up agent. As the blood dripped onto the floor, 005 took a step back.

“Well, I think that’s enough of that for now.”

“What, are you getting sleepy, darling?” Barker’s voice was breathy, weak, but still carrying a hint of amusement. “Shame. I could’ve kept going.”

005’s mouth twisted up into a snarl. She walked back over and slapped Barker across the face. Hard. The agent’s head snapped back against her neck with enough force to make it roll over to the other side. When Barker raised her head, she saw 005 fighting to hide her anger. The sight coaxed a small smile back onto her face.

“What’s the matter?” She laughed quietly. “Didn’t think your toy would make it this far, did you?” She was taunting the woman in front of her. 005 retaliated by forcing her head back so far the gash on her neck bled anew and it was difficult to breathe. 005 brought her face close to Barker’s, so close Barker could feel her breath on her neck.

“I will break you.” 005’s voice was just above a whisper; it could barely be heard over the clinking of the restraints. “I will leave you a mess of a human, barely able to function. You will be begging me to kill you.”

005 clearly expected Barker to either remain silent or whimper in fear because she tightened her grip and pushed her head even further backward. What she didn’t expect was the throat she held to vibrate slightly as Barker laughed softly.

“Don’t you know what happens to little girls who play with broken dolls?” The neck pulsed slightly as Barker swallowed. “They get shattered.”

005 growled and threw Barker back. The chains shook as her body was jostled against them. Barker slipped and almost fell, regaining her balance at the last minute. 005 drove her knee hard into Barker’s stomach, cutting off her wind and making her double over in shock. She followed up with a punch to the head. The impact caused Barker’s head to snap back and her body to stumble backward. As the blows continued, the agent’s body was forced to go limp and simply take the beating. A kick shattered another rib, making it even harder for Barker to draw breath. The rib may have also punctured Barker’s lung, as she began coughing up blood as 005 hammered her fists into the agent’s gut, rendering it near impossible to breathe. The relentless rain of punches eventually migrated from her stomach and relocated to various painful points on Barker’s body. Her arms ached as her shoulder was dislocated effortlessly as her bad knee was kicked in. She slumped into a useless tangle of limbs before 005, slipping slightly on the blood on the ground as she struggled to stand back up. When she finally did, 005 had moved to stand behind her, picking up the scalpel again.

“Let me try something.” She said as she dug the blade once more into the agent. Blood trickled down Barker’s spine, covering both her front and back with the red liquid. The lumps protruding from her back were like boulders in a waterfall, barely impeding the flow of blood as it ran down, dripping into the ever-growing puddle at Barker’s feet. As 005 worked, she began to talk, baiting the agent into trying to attack her once again.

“What should I do when I’ve grown tired of you?” She mused as a careful flick of her wrist opened one of the lacerations made by the crowbar. “I mean, I can’t exactly keep you for the rest of my life, now can I? You won’t last that long.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Barker answered quietly amidst her winces and sharp breaths. “You’re not going to be around for that much longer, anyway.” She arched her back in pain as 005 drove the blade in under the sweep of her shoulder blades.

“I’m going to outlive you if that’s what you’re implying.” 005 answered in a clipped tone. “As I’m sure you’re aware, no one leaves me alive without telling me all I want to know. And since I don’t want anything from you…” She trailed off into silence, letting the veiled threat hang in the air like a wet rag.

“Then I’m sure you’ll have to get a bit more creative, darling.” Barker flinched again as the blade made a large wound around the small of her back.

“Really? I’m not sure I will.” 005 continued speaking as she pressed the blade’s tip to the point when Barker’s head met her neck. “I think I’ve got enough to work with.”

“If you’re not careful, darling, I’ll start thinking you care about me.” Barker started only slightly as a small cut was made at the very base of her neck. She was growing somewhat accustomed to the pain, just to a point where she could largely block it out. But her strength was failing, sapped by the effort of keeping herself awake and standing, taken by the need to keep the entirety of her weight on only one of her arms and one of her legs. Her façade was cracking.

“Now, we can’t have that.” 005 circled Barker once more, making sure to jostle her injured shoulder and nudge her slightly so that she was forced to step down onto her bad leg for a second. Other than a soft hiss, no other sounds were heard. 005 reached out and pulled Barker’s head back up by her ponytail. “Can’t have you thinking you have some kind of pull here.”

“Of course not.” Barker managed to twist her mouth into a smirk. “That would make this much less fun. Well, for you. Not for me.”

“Exactly.” 005 cocked her head and considered the little agent in her grasp. “You’ve quite the mouth on you, little Miss Barker.”

“It’s a problem. More for you than me.” Barker’s voice shook a little bit but retained her confidence and quiet strength.

“And so far, you’ve not put it to a single good use. No screaming, no crying, no begging, nary a whimper I’ve heard about you in all the time you’ve been here.” 005 brought her face down to Barker’s level. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with that.”

“Clearly, you and I have different definitions of the phrase ‘good use’. I think I’ve been quite productive given my current situation.” Barker didn’t flinch this time as 005 drew back. The woman noticed.

“You’re not afraid of me,” she chuckled, “after all I’ve done to you, you’re not trembling at the sight of me.”

“I don’t see what I have to be afraid of.” Barker furrowed her brow in confusion.

005 only smiled at the quip. “Oh, you will. And that mouth of yours will finally stop talking.”

With that, she pressed the scalpel hard to Barker’s throat, opening another line of blood along her skin. The amount of blood Barker had lost made her head feel fuzzy. She was out in a matter of seconds.

* * *  
She was awakened as a bucket of cold water was thrown over her. She gasped in an attempt to refill her lungs with air but found herself just coughing up blood instead. The red strings flew out of her mouth and spattered messily across the floor. One droplet landed on a shiny black combat boot, spoiling the otherwise pristine appearance. Barker slowly raised her head, stare slowly traveling up to 005’s grinning face. The woman in front of her set down the now empty bucket with a hollow clunk. She stepped forward and flicked her fingers hard against Barker’s dislocated shoulder. Barker grimaced but otherwise kept herself completely still. 005 widened her eyes slightly, and her mouth quirked up into a smile. She wrapped her fingers around the bruised joint and unhurriedly began to shift the bones back and forth. A soft grating sound filled the room, the two women staring at each other. When Barker didn’t so much as alter her breathing, 005 took a step back, releasing her arm. She cocked her head and crossed her arms. Barker kept her eyes fixed on the woman’s, not blinking. 005 broke the silence first.

“Sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you for asking. Best sleep I’ve had in ages,” Barker replied drily. To some extent this was true, the forced unconsciousness was better than the no sleep she had gotten in the three nights before. 005 laughed, even though it was clear that she wasn’t amused.

“Ever the comedian, aren’t we?”

“Do you think I should start charging admission?” Barker replied. Her heart really wasn’t in it; the dry humor was just her coping mechanism.

“Well, I’m not sure.” 005 picked up her knife from the table and pressed it hard to Barker’s hip. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, dead men tell no tales.”

  
Barker had moved slightly when the cold metal first made contact with her quivering skin, but as the blade sliced she stilled and relaxed slightly. “You keep saying stuff like that, implying that I won’t make it out of here alive, but you refuse to kill me.” She turned her head to look 005 in the eye. “Why is that?”

“Because, little girl, I don’t do anything unless I’m asked very nicely.” 005 moved so she was right up against Barker, slowly caressing the flat of her blade over Barker’s cheek. “I will kill you, make no mistake, but only after you’ve begged me to do it.”

“Then we might be here awhile, I’m afraid.” Barker seemed oblivious to the knife against her face, not bothering to spare it a glance. 005’s smile was wolfish, angling her wrist to press the keen edge of the blade just behind Barker’s ear.

“I’m counting on it.” She drew it down to her shoulder, cautious not to cut. “I wouldn’t respect you if you did.”

“Hey, you barely respect me now,” Barker smirked, “not too much farther to go.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think you’re any more valuable than the dirt on this floor, but you’ve still got some dignity left to hold onto.” 005 withdrew the blade and picked up the crowbar. “At least until I strip it all away from you, piece by piece.” She punctuated each of her last three words with sharp jabs to her ribcage, gut, and knee. Barker staggered somewhat with each of the blows but recovered quite quickly after 005 had stopped.

“I don’t mean to critique your methods, but this is not the way to do it.” Barker’s voice moderately weaker, but was still audible. When 005 didn’t react, Barker lapsed back into silence, her breathing and the blood still dripping onto the floor the only noises in the room. At last, 005 set down the crowbar and produced a small disk from a box sitting on the table. When she held it up to the light, Barker inhaled discernibly, shifting backward in her restraints. 005 didn’t look over, but she heard the intake of breath and the clinking of the chains. She laughed.

“So you know what this does, I take it?” She looked over, smirking as she saw Barker had frozen, her eyes fixed on the disk held between the other woman’s fingers. “I’ll take your look of terror as a yes.”

005 gently turned the device over in her hands, inspecting the little disk. She spoke in a hushed tone as if speaking to a friend about a secret. “Do you have any idea how much effort it took to get this to work properly? All of the tests we had to run, all of the wasted resources, modeling the prototypes off of the specs drawn by a madman, the agonizing wait to see if it really worked? Of course, our first test subject proved it worked. Dear old Jamesey really set the project ahead of schedule. All in preparation for your visit.” 005 placed it carefully back in the box and locked it. She sauntered over to where Barker quivered in her chains. “And then I found out it had all been in vain.”

She reached up, trailing her fingertips over Barker’s left forearm, which she had been careful to leave unmarked. She savored the way Barker shrank back from her touch. “MI6 don’t know about you, do they? They don’t actually know where you came from.” She laughed low in her throat. “But I do.” Barker’s eyes snapped to her face, wide with fear.

“I know what you did. What you had done to you. What they programmed into you. Why you rub your left forearm when you get nervous.” 005 wrapped her hand around Barker’s arm and bent forward so her mouth was brushing the shaking agent’s ear. “I don’t need one of the devices to get you to break. Do you know why?”

Barker was clenching her jaw so tight it was doubtful anyone could make it unhinge again. She could feel 005’s lips curve up into a smile as the woman beside her whispered the answer.

“Because you’ve got one implanted in your arm.”

With that, she lightly squeezed Barker’s arm.

The effect was immediate. Barker began to tremble violently, her jaw wobbling as she fought to keep still. After a moment, her composure slipped and she began to mumble quietly, little moans of pain escaping her lips. 005 slowly upped the pressure, topping out when her knuckles were turning white from gripping Barker’s arm so tightly. The agent she held was finding it harder and harder to keep quiet. Whimpers were gradually becoming louder and louder, her body shaking with the effort of remaining standing. Her fists were clenched tight, fingernails leaving red crescents on her hands. She dropped her head to her chest, making every effort to prevent herself from breaking. 005 chuckled into her ear, beginning to whisper faintly.

“It’s always easier the guiltier they feel. All of those mistakes, all of those people. They could’ve been at peace, they could’ve lived. But you screwed that all up for them. You destroyed them. And now I will destroy you. You deserve every bit of this pain you feel right now. How do you think M would react if he actually knew what you’ve done? What about Moneypenny? Q? Little Agent Bradbury? What about Bond?”

Barker jerked back, hopelessly trying to free herself. But she was weakening, her control slipping. Her breathing was ragged, interrupted with whimpers and soft cries. Her arms shook under 005’s grip, her legs wobbled as she strived to stay upright. She began to flinch form imaginary blows, recoiling in terror from unseen figures. The unintelligible sounds coming from her mouth abruptly shifted to a pitiful stream of soft protests. Soft calls of ‘please’, ‘don’t’, ‘stop’ started replacing her strained breaths. Eventually, these morphed into a constant repetition of words. Her voice was heartbreakingly meager, sounding like a child abandoned on a front step.

“No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no…” Her voice gave out in a mewl of fear, but her lips continued to mouth the word even after her knees had buckled. 005 brought her hand to Barker’s cheek, yanking her back up by her face. Unlike Barker, 005’s voice was as steady as ever.

“I said I would break you. But you’re the one who did this to yourself.” Disgustedly, she threw Barker away from her. The agent swung lifelessly from her chains, still whimpering in pain. 005 walked over to the table and picked up a cuff. She fastened it tightly around Barker’s arm again, smiling grimly in satisfaction as the agent cried out anew.

“This will make sure that little implant of yours keeps working.” She drew her hand softly down the agent’s neck. “Pleasant nightmares, little girl.” 005 turned and walked out of the room, leaving Agent Barker struggling to contain her whimpers behind her.

* * *  
The night felt like it had gone on for years. At first, Barker could reassure herself that it was just the implant. It wasn’t real. But as the night wore on, the lack of sleep made the agent’s defenses crumble and disintegrate. Voices began to call out, some pleading, some yelling, from all corners of the room. Few screamed in her ears, taunting her uselessness, mocking her for breaking so easily. Others were farther away, behind walls, down corridors, imploring for her help, her mercy, but eventually, a muffled scream would silence them. The worst was when they were being dragged away. They would start out in front of her, mumbling softly, then footsteps would sound behind them as their voice began to move slowly away. Then the sounds would get worse, they would start yelling, shouting, as they were slowly pulled away. Then the voices would fade, replaced by another. It went on and on.

But then they were all silenced. No voices sounded. Then Barker thought maybe her subconscious had taken pity on her, that it was finally giving into the madness, letting her have her peace. That was short lived.

Barker suddenly became aware that someone, someone big, someone powerful, someone lethal, was standing in the corner of the room. She had closed her eyes when the cuff was strapped around her wrist, so her world was dark and she couldn’t see who it was. But when they started to walk around, the gait and stride were instantly recognizable. She began to shake so hard the chains were clattering. It couldn’t be. She had stopped him. He couldn’t be here. The voice only proved her assumption, however, making her blood run as ice.

“After all these years, you’re still the same. Weak. Disposable. Worthless.” The voice was deep, grating, yet effortlessly intimidating. Even now, it made her shake. “You were always so soft.”

Barker was fighting the instinct to talk back. It would only drive her deeper into insanity. The voice continued, pacing around the room, keeping a good distance away from her. She turned her head to keep her bearings.

“You never did understand, did you? You’re no agent, you’re not a person. You’re a program. You’re a weapon. You’re just a killer. Nothing more.” The voice stopped behind her. “You were never my favorite. You were just too weak to stop me. You could never stop me. I won. Every time.”

“Not in the end, you didn’t,” Barker said aloud before she could stop herself. Almost immediately, she tensed. She shouldn’t have done that. No, not now. Oh no. The voice was silent. For a minute, she thought it had vanished. But her throat seized up in panic when the voice spoke directly behind her, less than a foot away.

“You didn’t win. You think that little fireworks display stopped me? You were too much of a coward to finish off the job yourself, so you took the easy way out and fled.” The voice bent ever closer, so close Barker could feel breath on the back of her neck.

“You’re dead.” Her voice should have been strong, but it came out as more of a desperate plea. The voice laughed.

“Where do you think they got the specs from? Did you think it was dumb luck they got their hands on your records? Was it pure chance that we started work again just as you went back to that pathetic little group that thinks they can control us?” Barker was trembling again.

“No, it can’t be…” Her voice was shaking terribly.

“It’s because of you. You were going back to your pointless little adventures. And I found that unacceptable. So I took matters into my own hands. Your little friend? Got to test out the new batch of implants that I developed. Unfortunately, your worthless attempt to destroy me lost me the plans for the originals. So I had to start from scratch. Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for that. And don’t fret, my pet. I assure you I’ll leave him alive long enough to know it’s all your fault. And you’ll hear him scream his hatred of you before you kill him.”

“No!” Barker shouted even though the raw pain made her throat ache. She began to fight her chains, throwing herself against them, writhing in a vain attempt to free herself. The voice laughed at her frenzied yet futile struggle, taunting as she finally stopped fighting, and stood frozen in her chains.

“That’s it. Realize you’re nothing. You can’t do anything to stop it. You never could. You will be hated by everyone you tried so hard to protect. Despised by the ones you thought of as friends.” He said the word as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “And you will finally shatter all of those walls you’ve worked so hard to build. You will break for me. And you will become the monster you already fear you are.”

Barker could do nothing as her body refused to move. All sense of time vanished, she didn’t know what was happening. She slowly became aware that she had been saying ‘no’ almost constantly in a weak voice, the syllables blurring together until it sounded like one word.

“No no no no no nononononononononononononononononononononononono…”

“Yes.” The voice cut her off. “Don’t try and fight. You’ve already lost.”

* * *  
When the door swung open and 005 walked in the next morning, Barker was still staring at the ground, her eyes closed, mumbling softly. The woman smiled. She was failing. As she drew closer, Barker’s eyes snapped open and grew wide with fright. 005 reached out and Barker drew back instantly, shaking her head as her mumbling rose to an audible level. Her protests grew more passionate. Her retreat was impeded by her chains. 005 smiled wickedly and marginally applied more pressure to Barker’s cuffed arm. The effect was explosive, a raw yelp of pain echoing around the room. As Barker began to twist away, 005 released her arm and snickered.

“Aw, are you scared of me?” She asked in a mocking baby voice, crouching so her face was under Barker’s. “Are you scared I’m going to hurt you? Are you angry that I left you alone for two days?”

“Go to hell.” Barker’s voice was breathy but carried enough strength to be clearly heard. 005 just smiled.

“You’re already there.” With that, she gripped Barker’s arm again, delighting in the way the woman cried out in terror.

“Stop!” 005 paused, wondering if she’d heard correctly. Barker was heaving, eyes fixed on hers. “Stop. Stop. Stop.”

005 lightened up on her hold, but only slightly. “You want me to stop?”

“Just get it over with.” Barker’s voice was low, her head bowed as if ashamed.

005 grabbed her chin and forced it back up. “Beg. Beg me to end it.”

Barker was silent until 005 tightened her clutch, and another strangled whimper escaped. “I said beg.”

“Please.” The word was barely a whisper, but it was enough. The gun was pressed against her gut and the trigger pulled twice. 005 smiled.

“Now, was that so hard?” She smirked at the lack of an answer and strode over to the door. “Sorry, but I can’t stick around to watch you finally choke on your own blood. I’m afraid I have a prior engagement. I have to get back to Six, I have to tell M how you turned on me.”

Barker’s eyes narrowed to chips of pure hatred. 005 smiled knowingly.

“Oh, didn’t you know? You assaulted me in the car as we were driving away, and you held me for a week, torturing me. You put those horrible devices on me, driving me insane. You betrayed me and gloated about it. And you tried to kill me and told me about your plot to assassinate M. Then, you got reckless one night and decided to beat me yourself, accidentally freeing me. I killed you, and struggled out of your little torture cabin back to Six.”

Barker began to writhe again, desperately trying to get to the woman in front of her. But her strength was gone. She could do nothing but watch as 005 waltzed out, leaving the door wide open. It was taunting her, a path to freedom she couldn’t take. Before long, the pain dulled as her world faded to black.

The voice had been right. She had lost.

Everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i'll make it better


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barker's found.

The mission had been a success. As 006 and 007 walked triumphantly off the plane, Tanner greeted them in the car as they rode back. As the Double-Ohs were still high on adrenaline, Tanner took care to not provoke them in any way, shape, or form. Instead, he asked where the other team were.

“From what I heard, they were a few hours behind us,” Alec said as he reclined against the seat, “they’re getting picked up separately.”

“Probably a good idea. Wouldn’t be good for the whole of Six for the four of you to be together right after the mission,” Tanner said drily as the car pulled up in front of Six. The three of them exited, Tanner leading the way to M’s office door. When he reached it, he stopped and turned. “Officially, you’re supposed to have a debrief now.”

Bond smirked. “And unofficially?”

“Unofficially,” Moneypenny said as she exited the door and shut it behind her, “Mallory is currently engrossed in another project, and he doesn’t want to be interrupted.” Her smile was wide. “So, boys, you’ve got a few hours.”

“Well,” Alec turned to Bond, also grinning, “I’m going to go take 009 up on her offer to go terrify the baby agents again. Shall I assume you’re going to see Q?”

“Of course.” The two Double-Ohs strode away, leaving Moneypenny and Tanner shaking their heads.

As Bond entered Q-Branch, the minions were tapping quietly at their computers, R was standing at her desk working on a new code, and Q’s office door was open, revealing the Quartermaster himself sitting contentedly at his desk. Bond strode up to Q’s office, smiling as R shot him a slightly disapproving look. He shut the door to Q’s office as he waltzed in. Q looked up and smiled wryly.

“Shall I take your jovial mood to mean that the mission went well for you?” He asked, mildly curious.

“Absolutely.” Bond placed his gun, trackers, and earpiece onto the desk in front of Q, whose eyes narrowed.

“What’s this? Did 007 actually bring back all of his equipment back in one piece this time?” Q stood, examining each piece carefully. “Well, color me impressed.”

“Why, Q, I’m wounded.” Bond feigned offense at Q’s remark. “You make it sound like I actually make an effort to destroy what you give me.”

Q’s raised eyebrow look informed him just what Q thought of that response. “You’re lucky I put up with you.”

Bond navigated around the desk to place his hands gently over Q’s shoulders. “We both know you put up with me for an entirely different reason.” He laughed as Q flushed slightly and stepped back. “Dinner, tonight.”

“Fine. If nothing pressing happens.” Q shook the Double-Oh off of him, sitting back down. Bond took his customary position behind his Quartermaster, placing his hands back onto Q’s shoulders despite Q’s earlier objection. They both looked up as R burst through the door, her face white.

“Sir, the plane just landed. Neither 005 or Barker are on it.”

Q stood up immediately, striding swiftly out to his desk in the main part of Q-Branch. Already, the minions were typing furiously. “What do we know?”

“The last transmission I have is from 005, saying the mission was complete. After that, nothing.”

“No reply from Barker?” Q’s voice was clipped, professional. His hands were flying over his keyboard, pulling up the cameras at the airfield their plane had taken off from.

“No, none at all. 005 said she was fine.” Bond stepped up behind Q, not too close to impede his work, but close enough to see what he was doing. R was typing almost as fast as Q was. Q-Branch was freakishly quiet as they all worked to find the footage. Finally, Q broke the tension.

“Here.” The video of the car pulling up was playing on the large screens. Bond watched as the driver exited the car and walked up to the plane. A few seconds later, the pilot joined him at the base of the exit ramp and spoke with him. Unfortunately, there was no audio available for the tape. The driver handed the pilot something wrapped in a black cloth, before getting back in the car and driving off. The plane took off a few minutes later. Q slammed his fist down onto the desk in frustration. “So they were never on the plane.”

“No. And they weren’t in the car.” Bond’s voice betrayed his growing anger. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know.” R’s voice held the same level of anger. “There was no way they were taken. I tracked the car from the hotel back to the airfield, and 005’s transmission came through after they were in the car.”

“Well, 007, it looks like I’ll have to take a rain check on that dinner.” Q was already back to typing. “Will next week work for you?”

“Nine on the dot, don’t you dare be late.” Bond was already halfway out of Q-Branch, storming back up to M’s office. He caught Moneypenny going back in, his thunderous look enough to make her stop and stare.

“What’s wrong?” She asked playfully, trying to ease the tension. “Did Q reject you for dinner this week?”

“005 and Barker are missing.” Bond’s tone made her sober immediately and they both strode through into M’s office. M looked up as 007 slammed the door shut with no regard to the standard etiquette associated with speaking to the head of MI6.

“Everything alright, agent?” Mallory asked tiredly. “If so, could you please refrain from abusing the building?”

“005 and Agent Barker are missing,” Bond nearly shouted at the man sitting across from him.

Mallory paled. “What?”

“They didn’t come back on the plane and they weren’t in the car that was assigned to pick them up. “

Mallory sighed. “I anticipated something like this might happen.”

Now it was Bond’s turn to look appalled. “What?”

Mallory smiled grimly. “Barker is more unstable than you Double-Ohs. I was expecting her to pull some sort of stunt like this.”

Bond was finding it harder and harder to not smash a chair over the man’s head. “I would appreciate it if you took it seriously.”

Mallory glowered. “Are you insinuating – “

“I’m saying you better do something about this before something terrible happens,” Bond growled, placing his hands on the desk, “either to the agents currently missing or to you.”

“Watch your place, agent.” Mallory stood, matching 007’s stance so the two men were face to face. “I will do something about it, but you’d better remember which one of us has the power to actually do said thing and which one does not.”

The staring contest continued for a minute until Bond pulled back and tugged on his cuffs. “Understood, sir.” He walked back out, furious. This was not supposed to happen. Those two were good agents. They weren’t supposed to get lost at the end of an easy mission. But then, every easy mission lately had ended badly. First Garrett had gotten killed, then he himself had gotten kidnapped, and now two more had gone missing. He shook his head. 005 would never have gone without a fight. No way that woman was giving up easily. And Barker…

Barker was remarkable. She had suffered through enough, being put through the paces as a new recruit. Working through that tournament. Having them suspect she was a double agent. Risking her life to come and rescue him. Almost being sentenced to death by M. Having to work with the people who had accused her of betraying them. Bond’s expression hardened.

If they were out there, he would find them. And he would bring them home.

* * *  
The next few days were hard. Q and the rest of his minions worked nearly around the clock to find the missing agents. Moneypenny, Tanner, and M were calling in favors from other agencies to try and find the missing agents. Bond himself was a constant presence in Q-Branch, pacing up and down, pestering R with requests for updates all the time. The Double-Ohs left well enough alone, taking a break from their continuous pattern of annoying the minions. All of Six seemed hell-bent on finding the missing women.

But as the days slowly grew, from one to three, from three to five, and from five to seven, hope began to fade away from the halls of Six. M began to focus on other things and stopped requesting favors. Tanner turned his attention back to the rest of Six, organizing the new missions. Even R started instructing Q-Branch to start back into their normal routine, developing prototypes and testing new codes. Only Moneypenny, Q, and Bond remained vigilant. They were all gathered in Q’s office when they finally found something.

It happened quite by accident, actually. Q had been reviewing the footage again, Moneypenny was sitting in the chair across from him jiggling one of her legs, and Bond was pacing in the space behind Q’s desk, muttering angrily.

“How could he? It’s two of his own agents. And valuable ones at that. How could he just leave them behind?”

“I don’t know,” Moneypenny sighed, “why would he do such a thing?”

“Apparently, he was expecting it,” Bond said, resisting the urge to fling something across the room, “because Barker is apparently unstable.”

“That is the most ridiculous excuse I’ve ever heard,” Moneypenny said indignantly, “sure, she’s not the perfect model of human sanity, but none of us are.”

Bond’s comeback was cut off by Q’s shout of triumph. “What is it?”

“The time,” Q said excitedly, fingers already flying as he pulled up the CCTV footage on the large screen. “Look.” He gestured to the clip of the car pulling into the airfield. “It should take about five minutes to get to the hanger where their plane was waiting. But on the clip of the car pulling up, the time says it’s – “

“Fifteen minutes later,” Moneypenny interrupted. They watched the familiar clip of the driver and pilot exchange before Q slumped back in his chair.

“So the question is, where was that car in those extra ten minutes?” Bond and Moneypenny watched the screens as he cycled through the rest of the logs from the airfield. There were a few minutes of stressed silence. At last, Q announced his discovery.

“Another plane took off from a hanger across the field five minutes before the one that was supposed to bring 005 and Barker back.”

“Where did it go?” Bond turned and leaned over Q.

“Russia.” Bond glanced up to see Moneypenny’s face go slack with fear. Q looked up, full of apprehension. “They were taken to Russia.”

“Do we have a record of when the plane landed?” Bond asked as Q started typing again.

“Yes. It landed at the private airport just outside of Tikoi, which is at the very top of Siberia.” Q shivered. “Clearly, they didn’t want to be found.”

“Then?” Bond prompted.

“A car picked them up and took them to a facility on the outskirts of Tikoi. That’s where they are.”

Bond straightened as Moneypenny pulled out her phone and sent a message off to Mallory. “Guess we’re back in the game,” she said with a grim smile.

“Oh…” Q’s soft exhale drew their attention back, Bond instantly moving to cover Q’s shoulder with one hand.

“What is it?”

“I think I can hack into the surveillance inside the building. That might give us a better idea of what we’re up against.”

“Do it.” Bond softly squeezed his shoulder before he and Moneypenny began the long walk back up to face M. He didn’t disappoint. As soon as they arrived, Tanner joined them inside the office. He shook his head as they walked in, and with good reason. Mallory looked ready to blow a gasket.

“Out of all of the things you could have notified me about, Ms. Moneypenny, it’s about the two agents we deemed lost three days ago,” Mallory said angrily, “are none of you aware that the standard MI6 rescue protocol indicates the window is five days? The agents have been gone for eight. The window is closed.”

“Well, they might still retrievable,” Tanner objected, “we should still try to retrieve them.”

“Very well, but I don’t want a whole team going. One agent. And only one agent.”

Moneypenny started to protest. “But sir, if they were enough to overpower both agents, we’ll need more than one agent.”

“And yet, that’s all we can afford.” Mallory sat back down. “Tanner, choose an agent, preferably one who won’t botch the operation.”

“007.” Tanner’s reply was instant, and Bond felt a sudden rush of respect for the man. “I’m sure Q will have no objection.”

Mallory made eye contact with Bond. Bond stared right back as if daring the man to refuse. He hoped – for M’s sake – that he didn’t. Because he’d be going regardless. At last, M nodded.

“Do try to be discreet, Bond.” He sounded tired. Before he could speak further, the sharp ringing of his phone ended the conversation. He picked up, answering with a sharp “Yes?” His expression didn’t shift as he replaced the receiver in its holder and looked back up at Bond. His tone was full of forced politeness. “The Quartermaster requires your presence in his office.”

“Thank you, sir.” Bond left, shortly followed by Moneypenny as she promised to oversee preparations and nodded their gratitude to Tanner. When they arrived back down in Q-Branch, Moneypenny turned to James.

“How many times are we going to run between floors today?”

“Unclear,” he shot back, smiling as they made their way back up to Q’s office. The smile fell when he saw how pale Q was. “What?”

“I’ve hacked into the footage.” His voice was hollow. Bond quickly came to steady him as he slumped forwards.

“And?” He asked carefully, not wanting to upset Q further.

“I figured out how they were able to take them.” At Bond’s curious look, he pressed a key on his computer. A scene sprung to life on the screens, Bond leaning back against Q’s desk as he kept one hand on Q’s shoulder. Moneypenny came up to stand next to them. All of them stared appalled at the screen.

Agent Barker had been stripped, chained up, and was hanging limply from the ceiling of a bright white room. They watched as the door swung open, and 005 walked in. This camera did not suffer the shortcomings of the ones at the airfield, and the woman’s voice filled the room effortlessly. Bond’s grip tightened on Q’s shoulder as the first cut was made, watching as the blood spilled onto the floor. They sat through the footage silently, occasionally wincing when 005 decided to inflict a more serious injury. But Barker wasn’t cracking. She kept her defenses up. As she began to fight back against 005 with her trademark sarcasm and dry humor, Bond felt a surge of admiration and pride shoot through his chest. By end of the fifth recorded day, Barker still showed no signs of submission. But then 005 unlocked the box.

When she held up the device, Barker stiffened. So did Bond. He knew what those were capable of. He had experienced it himself. Judging by Barker’s expression, she knew too. 005 mocked her for it but surprised Bond when she didn’t move to place it on Barker. Instead, she approached the shaking agent, grabbing her left forearm. Bond remembered how she used to rub it whenever she was uneasy. And 005 provided why.

_“Because you’ve got one implanted in your arm.”_

Bond heard Moneypenny’s gasp from beside him. He felt Q tense under his hand. He kept his eyes fixed on the screen, watching as Barker began to fall victim to the pain. He felt utterly helpless as he watched the agent crumble under the weight of her own guilt. And every little thing 005 said added to the anger burning in his chest.

_“It’s always easier the guiltier they feel. All of those mistakes, all of those people. They could’ve been at peace, they could’ve lived. But you screwed that all up for them. You destroyed them. And now I will destroy you. You deserve every bit of this pain you feel right now. How do you think M would react if he actually knew what you’ve done? What about Moneypenny? Q? Little Agent Bradbury? What about Bond?”_

The monster raging inside James was yearning to rip 005’s throat out. He tightened his grip on the desk until the wood gave way. Barker seemed to fall further and further away from her safety, beginning to vocalize her pain in a way that made James’ heart ache. Barker was weakening. And the way 005 laughed only made it worse.

_“I said I would break you. But you’re the one who did this to yourself.”_

The tapes ended, and Bond breathed out. When he spoke again, it was in the same grim tone he used when interrogating targets.

“Do you want her alive or dead?” It really wasn’t a question.

“For what she’s done,” Moneypenny said, sounding angrier than Bond had ever heard before, “death would be too good for her.”

Q slid the palm print coded Walther across the table along with the earpiece. “Bring her back, please, James.”

Bond strode out of Q-Branch, the monster purring inside. He smiled; the kind of smile you see right before you die.

005 would see it soon enough.

* * *  
The facility was underground, marked by an abandoned warehouse. Bond scoffed as he pulled up. How dreadfully typical. Two guards were standing by the entrance, carrying assault rifles. They blocked the door when Bond marched up to the front. One of them held up his hand.

“Clearance?”

“Excuse me?” Bond said. He really didn’t have time for this.

“Only Level 8 and above are authorized to enter.” The guard kept his hand out whilst his partner’s finger slipped to the trigger of his gun. “So, clearance?”

Q’s voice crackled over the earpiece. “We’re not strictly allowed to create a large spectacle, 007. But there’s no one else within a hundred-mile radius, and I’ve locked down their communications.”

“Thank you,” Bond smiled. The guards looked confused before they collapsed on the ground unconscious. Kicking open the door, Bond drew his Walther and started in. The first two who approached him were killed immediately, a bullet through the chest. The next four had enough common sense to actually use their weapons but lacked the proper training to be effective. Whilst they outgunned the Double-Oh, the fear and adrenaline meant they fired wildly with no real target and didn’t hit anything. Bond was furious, but fury only made him deadlier. He calmly aimed and fired, taking down a man with each shot. As reinforcements came down the stairs, Bond ducked behind the corner and waited until the firing stopped. He heard the nervous footsteps of the men approaching before he swung back around and dropped the rest of them. The six shots ended with the sound of multiple bodies hitting the floor. Q’s voice came drily over the earpiece.

“Well, that was dramatic.”

Bond huffed out a laugh before he stepped carefully over the bodies and continued further into the depths of the facility. “How many more?”

“Five more on the level below. They’re coming up the stairs.”

No sooner had Q said that there were five armed guards bursting through the door on 007’s right. These wore full-on assault gear; bullets wouldn’t cut it this time. Bond needed another idea, fast. As the fuse box on the wall began sparking, he dashed to the other end of the room and shielded his eyes. Even through his arm, the bright flash of light was still painful. The glare has disoriented the guards and Bond was able to catch them off guard. Two fell with a broken neck, another received a shot from his colleague’s rifles as Bond avoided a blow to the back of the head. One swung his rifle in a wide circle, blindly lashing out. Bond grabbed the barrel and wrenched it away using the force to throw one guard into the other who was coming at him from the other side. The collision knocked their helmets onto the ground. He adjusted his grip and put two in the back of each of the guards’ heads. He tossed the rifle away and tugged on his cuffs, picking up his discarded Walther. He hustled down the stairs, coming to a wide corridor. The corridor was long enough so that the other end couldn’t hear what had happened. As he crept slowly along the hallway, Bond muttered to Q.

“What’s down here?”

Q’s voice was hushed. “Barker is. She’s still in there.”

“Alive?”

“For now. But 005’s there. And she’s – oh no – “

Before Bond could ask what had Q so distressed, two gunshots rang out from the other end of the hall. Striding down the hall, he was about to round the corner when he heard 005’s voice coming from the open door. He sidestepped back around the corner and leaned against the wall. Careful to make sure the woman didn’t hear him, he whispered down the line to Q. “Are you hearing this?”

“Loud and clear.” The two men fell silent, listening to 005’s voice.

“Sorry, but I can’t stick around to watch you finally choke on your own blood. I’m afraid I have a prior engagement. I have to get back to Six, I have to tell M how you turned on me.”

There was a faint jingle from inside. 005 laughed and continued speaking. Every new word made the boiling anger simmer hotter.

“Oh, didn’t you know? You assaulted me in the car as we were driving away, and you held me for a week, torturing me. You put those horrible devices on me, driving me insane. You betrayed me and gloated about it. And you tried to kill me and told me about your plot to assassinate M. Then, you got reckless one night and decided to beat me yourself, accidentally freeing me. I killed you, and struggled out of your little torture cabin back to Six.”

Q snarled across the line. “Not if we have anything to do about it you won’t.”

Bond shushed him as 005 began to walk towards them. The faint giggles reverberated down the hall and around to where 007 stood waiting. She muttered gently under her breath as she walked away.

“If you ask me, none of those bumbling buffoons are worth it. Stupid little bitch.”

That was it. As 005 rounded the corner, Bond spoke up from where he leaned against the wall, his gun trained on the spot just above her eyes.

“I think I’m rather offended by that.” 005 turned in surprise. “And no one asked you.”

He fired without another word, feeling nothing as she fell to the ground, the look of surprise immortalized on her face. Double-Ohs were trained to not feel remorse for the kills they made, but right now, 007 couldn’t imagine feeling guilty about what had just happened. He tugged on his cuffs as he gazed down at the woman lying at his feet.

“Thanks for leaving the door open.” Sheathing his Walther, he turned the corner into the room. What he saw shocked him. Judging by Q’s silence, he was equally taken aback.

Agent Barker was hanging limply from the chains, her body crisscrossed with dripping red lines and carpeted with bruises. One of her shoulders was painfully swollen, colored a nasty yellow and purple. Her kneecap was bloodied and awkwardly skewed to one side. Her head was draped forwards, ponytail limply hanging over her chest, half caked in blood. Bond’s eyes raked over her figure, taking in her injuries, before focusing on the damage the gunshots had done.

There was a gaping hole in Barker’s gut, gushing blood down her side. Bond rushed forwards, stripping off his suit jacket and crumpling it into a ball. He pressed it hard to Barker’s wound, stemming some of the blood flow. He glanced up to the camera in the corner of the room.

“Q. I need medevac now.” He grunted as he reached up to the restraints and checked the lock. It was simple, a skeleton key would probably unlock it. He rushed back to 005 and searched her pockets, finding one. He replaced the pressure on the gunshot and used his free hand to unlock the restraints. Barker made no noise as her arms fell, or as Bond swung her up into his arms after freeing her from the floor restraints. He used one hand to shift her weight so she was balancing mostly on his shoulder and one arm, before keeping his suit jacket pushed hard against her stomach. Q’s voice sounded.

“On their way. They’ll be there in five. I had them stationed nearby.”

“Always prepared, aren’t you?” Bond said as he slowly carried Barker’s limp form back up the stairs.

“Always.” Q’s voice carried a hint of forced levity that didn’t do much of anything. By the time Bond had gotten back upstairs, the medical team had pulled up and were unloading. Four men came and took Barker away. Bond followed close behind, not wanting to stray too far from the agent. One of the men came back over to speak to Bond.

“She’s still alive. I think she’ll pull through.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL THE TIME SKIPS   
> 005 ded yay


	10. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also titled: Exposition

Barker woke up slowly. At first, she thought she was still in the room. A small shake of her left arm produced no clink of metal. Her next thought was that she was dead. But no, that wasn’t it either. She came to realize she was lying on a soft mattress in a dark room. Her eyelids were heavy. The sounds of her stirring drew the attention of the man standing looking out of the window. He turned and walked closer to the bed. At his approach, Barker tried to scoot away but only succeeded in slightly messing up the bed covers. The man noticed, and stopped. Then he reached out and turned on the lamp, letting the warm light chase away some of the shadows. Barker’s face softened as the light revealed a very concerned Bond watching her carefully. He didn’t move, just watched her and let her watch. Eventually, keeping her eyes open was too much of a chore, and Barker slept once more. Her mind was no longer humming with fear or pain. It was quiet. Everything was just quiet.

* * *  
Bond was sitting in the chair across the room when Barker woke up again. It was still night time; the curtains were drawn halfway over the window, blocking out the lights from outside. When he heard the sound of the covers shifting slightly, he stood up and walked over to the bed. Barker was still lying on her back, her head turned away from him. Her eyes were open, looking around. As he turned on the light again, she lifted her head slowly off the pillow and swiveled it so it flopped back down on the other side. Now she could see him, even though her eyes were still a bit unfocused. She blinked once, and then a tired smile spread across her face.

“This seems familiar.” Her voice was still weak, but it wasn’t the horrible frailness Bond had heard over the tapes.

“Just the other way around,” he said softly back. The mattress dipped as he sat down next to her, careful not to jostle her body. She was still healing.

“How bad?” She cut straight to the point, and Bond hesitated a minute before answering.

“Two cracked ribs. Slightly punctured lung. Fractured kneecap. Dislocated shoulder. Gunshot wound. Lots of smaller lacerations and bruises.” He looked down as her face fell slightly. “You were out for two days.”

“So no big deal then,” she mumbled, and Bond had to smile. Even after all of that, she still had her humor. She noticed and her mouth slowly crawled into a smile. “Mind telling me where I am?”

“My flat, just outside of London.” Bond kept the smile at her eyebrow raise.

“Why?”

“Because Medical’s bright lights are the bloody same as those lights in that room,” Bond smirked, “and I know how much you hate Medical.”

That drew a small laugh out of the agent, and although it was barely louder than a whisper, it was still enough. The fact that she could still laugh after an ordeal like that showed how strong she was. Even if she looked like a wreck. She stopped before too long, wincing slightly at the pain. His worry must have come through in his expression because Barker huffed softly.

“I’m fine. I promise.” Bond reached over and wrapped his hand around hers.

“You should be. Medical did most of their job before I got you out of there. The worst of the injuries have been taken care of and you’re in the clear. Surprising they did their job quickly. Normally they hold you for much longer before doing that.”

“Damn straight,” Barker mumbled.

“But you should be back before the week is out. The gunshots were luckily in a place where they hit nothing vital, and we were able to get you stabilized before the worst of it. She didn’t do her job right.” Bond placed his hand on Barker’s shoulder, gently pushing her back down as she tried to get up. At the annoyed look she shot him, he raised his eyebrows. “That doesn’t mean you can get up now, you’re still recovering.”

“Please, I’ll be fine,” Barker said. But as soon as her upper body was off the bed, she wobbled slightly and would’ve fallen forward if Bond hadn’t caught her, one arm around her back and the other over her stomach. He laughed softly as he eased her back down.

“You’re still on the sedatives and painkillers Medical dosed you with. You’ll be weak as a kitten until they wear off.” He kept one hand on her abdomen just next to the injury and moved his other to gently run through her hair. “I spent too long trying to find you and keep you from dying. I’ll be damned if you keel over onto my floor.”

“You’re worse than they are,” Barker said softly, shifting so she was lying back against the pillows. “So what can I do, sir?”

“Again with this.” Bond huffed in exasperation. “Do you enjoy making me feel old?”

“Not at all, sir.” She smirked at Bond’s expression.

“Sharp-tongued little kitten, aren’t you?” Bond teased, before relenting as her expression contorted in pain. He leaned forward to take a look. Barker noticed.

“What is it, 007?”

“I saw the tapes.” Bond watched as Barker closed her eyes and felt her stomach tighten under his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Barker murmured, “You didn’t do it.”

“You know that none of us think badly of you because of who you are, right? Well, except for Agent Yeager.” Bond gently tangled his hand with hers. “Mallory treats you like one of the Double-Ohs. Eve prefers working with you over anyone else. Q likes you better than his own brothers most of the time. And none of what happened changed that. 005 was wrong, Barker.”

“No, she wasn’t.” Barker’s voice was barely audible, her head turned away. “She was right.”

“Barker…” Bond lifted his hand and slotted it behind her head, angling it so she looked back at him. “You know she wasn’t. I heard what she said - “

“Not all of it. And you don’t know what she knew. What I did.” Barker tried to turn her head away, but he slid his hand back to the back of her neck and softly squeezed.

“What did she make you see?” A pause.

“You’ve heard the stories, I’m sure.”

“I’d rather hear it from you. If you want to tell me.”

Barker sighed. “No, but you’ll ask to read my file if I don’t. My actual file. That one Mr. Holmes gave Mallory only covers what I did for Six or the British Government. There’s a different one that has everything. And they’ll let you.” She took a deep breath, and she went limp against Bond’s hand. He moved it off of her neck and placed it beside her hand. His other hand was still pressed against her stomach. He felt her breath in again, and she began.

“Some of the stories are completely made up. I could dodge a bullet, I could rip someone’s limb off, I had a bionic arm, most of them don’t make any sense. But some of them are true. At least partly.

“I wasn’t trained by MI6. Or even the British Government. I was raised in a facility literally in the middle of nowhere. There was no one around to hear us. No one to be suspicious. I was one of forty girls raised from birth in the facility. Each of us was trained at the same time, each learning the same skills, each treated the same. They didn’t give us names. Only numbers. I was Number 36. At first, we didn’t know that it was bad, what they were doing to us. What they made us do. We thought it was normal. They told us it was for the good of everyone that we did as we were told. And we did.

“It started off small. First, we were taught to recognize patterns, different ways people moved. We copied the patterns. We practiced with each other, trying to get the patterns perfect. When we got older, they taught us how to break the patterns. That was the first time any of us actually hurt someone. The first time any of us actually killed someone. And we killed each other. Those who survived got to learn the next way to break the other patterns.

“It was Number 17 who started it. We were all eight. She started asking questions, like why we were doing this. We tried to get her to stop, but eventually, she attacked one of the instructors. She didn’t even hurt him. They chained her to the outside of the building, soaking wet, all night. The next morning, we were told to go outside for target practice. They handed us knives and told us to break her pattern. That was always how they told us to do it. Never to kill, never to hurt, just to ‘break their pattern’. The others didn’t know what to do. We were all close, we had all known each other since the first day. I knew exactly what to do. I threw one knife, dead center of her chest. She was dead before she fell.

“Afterwards, I thought I would get some kind of reward. I was the only one who had done what we were told. But no. They said I’d done it wrong. I had ended it too quickly. I was supposed to punish her for what she did, not just give her an easy way out. They had me practice on another one of the girls who had started asking questions again, Number 35. This time, they made the other girls stand in a line with her, and I wasn’t supposed to hit them. They were all touching shoulders. This time I used three knives. One impaled itself in her shoulder. She fell to her knees, screaming. I threw another, that pinned her to the wall through her stomach. She raised her arm above her head, clenched in a fist. Then she opened it. That was supposed to be our sign of ‘I give up’. We were never supposed to make it because we should win in the first place. But if someone made it, we were supposed to stop. I threw the last knife and pinned her hand to the wall as well. She bled out on the floor. None of the other girls had moved a muscle.

“After that, we were all pretty well behaved. It was another few years before another one of us died because of that. That didn’t mean we stopped killing. They started mixing us in with other divisions, other groups of girls. We were the best. We killed more of them than did. It was supposed to narrow down the best, but it was just our division. Eventually, there were only 21 of us left. All from our little group. Then they started treating us differently.

“They never treated us like children. But there was still some element of patience, not expecting the same as you’d expect out of an adult. But once we turned 13, that changed. Every mistake was punished severely. A common punishment was you were tied up and the others would beat you. Or you’d be burned. A lot of the girls were ‘marked’ on their faces, as someone who was in trouble. They enjoyed having us ridicule and exclude those with brands on their faces. But that wasn’t their favorite punishment.

“They only started using it once Number 22 got particularly mouthy one day. Eventually, she was taken down to one of the rooms at the end of the hall, one we were instructed never to go into. All of us were excited. We’d finally know what that room was. But when she came back, Number 22 wouldn’t talk about what had happened. She was white as a ghost. That surprised us. We’d all been through a lot. So if it was so bad that she wouldn’t say what it was, then it was really bad. Number 27 got sent there next. She wouldn’t talk about it either. Eventually, all of the girls except me and five others had been sent there. But it only happened once. They were never sent there twice. And then I accidentally dropped my gun while we were doing this one thing. I was dragged there straight away.

“They chained me to a table and cut my chest. But it wasn’t deep, and all it did was just sting a little. I didn’t understand why it was so bad. We’d done worse to each other before breakfast. But then he came in.

“His name was Alphonse McCallum. To us, he was always The Father. He came in and started talking. Saying how grateful we should be that he was keeping us, how he was training us to protect ourselves, nothing we hadn’t heard before. I said I was grateful; I had just made a mistake. Then he had his hand wrapped around my throat. He said I didn’t get to make mistakes. I wasn’t allowed to. I had to please him, and I had to be a good little girl and do whatever he said. He sliced open my left arm and climbed on top of me. I couldn’t move. Not just because of the chains, I genuinely couldn’t move. He cut away my clothes and dug his finger into the cut in my arm. He kept me there for an hour. He raped me. There was no consent in any of it. I had to be helped back down to the rest of the girls because I couldn’t walk.

“I later learned what he had done to my arm. It was a failsafe, like the safety on our guns. It was a way to shut us down if we ever disobeyed. Or became a liability. Something we called Nightmare Protocol. What it did was it delivered a toxin into the bloodstream, made us relive the worst parts of our lives, see the worst things we could imagine. It’s effective. It made us hear things that weren’t there. Made us see things that weren’t there. Made us think one person one there when it was someone else. They used it as a punishment too, just a much weaker version. The others only went to The Father once. Just to get the implant put in. Except for me.

“He stopped looking for excuses. He’d just drag me off regardless of what time of day it was or how good my performance was that day. Then it became every day. I became his new favorite toy. He’d keep me there overnight and send me back like nothing had happened. I was the only one he did that with. They started feeding us less, we had to fight over the food. I was sometimes too weak to move. The others didn’t care. If I was out of the way, it was one less person they had to worry about. We started to train harder. They sent us out to kill people, get information. Torture, seduction, they didn’t care. Our bodies were weapons. We had to use them properly. Or they’d kill us and move onto the next one. That got rid of most of them. There were just ten of us left by the time I was eighteen.

“It was supposed to be an easy mission. Sneak into the house, kill the man, get his hard drive, and get back out. Nothing I hadn’t done a hundred times before. I had gotten in and killed the man. But then I heard something coming from down the hall. I looked with my gun drawn and saw his wife standing there, their newborn in her arms. I wasn’t told the man was married or that he had a child. But I had a mission to complete. The woman saw me, started crying. So did the baby. She was pleading, crying, begging me not to kill her. I shot her baby first and then her.

“When I got back, I asked why no one had told me that he was married. They dragged me off to The Father. He kept me there for half an hour before I dared ask the question again. He grabbed my left arm tightly, activating the implant. He was mad at me. He said I didn’t ask questions. He had seen me hesitate. He knew I was upset about it. He called me worthless, not grateful. He said I wasn’t supposed to feel. I was just a machine. And if I continued to disobey, I would be destroyed. He kept me there all night, the implant still working. It made the typical routine even harder to get through. That stopped me hesitating for a while. But then I got assigned a new mission to somewhere in China.

“I was supposed to go and eliminate a threat that was working to bring down The Father. When I got there, I killed the guards and broke down the door to the main room. Number 11 was sitting there. She looked terrified. She had tried to help me whenever I came back from The Father each night, the only one who helped me. So I didn’t want to kill her. I guess I stopped for a bit too long. They turned on my implant. And I saw The Father standing in front of me. I reacted on instinct. I fired. Next thing I knew; Number 11 was lying dead on the floor in front of me.

“When they got me back, The Father carted me off almost straight away. He was furious. He asked why they needed to turn on the implant. I lied, said it was something about how Number 11 had said something. He didn’t believe it and asked me what I saw to make me shoot. I didn’t answer. Even after the night was over I still didn’t answer. He let me go with the reminder that I was just a machine. I shouldn’t hesitate. And this time, there was no one to help me.

“So I started to watch. I learned when The Father was here and when he wasn’t. I learned how to get out of the facility without anyone knowing. I stopped holding back in training, I never hesitated anymore on missions, no matter what he made me do. I became the perfect weapon. I became the programmed soldier they designed me to be. Hell, I even pretended to enjoy what he did to me. He didn’t chain me down anymore. But every single time, I promised I would kill him. I would stop what he had started. Eventually, I knew what to do.

“I had snuck into the kitchen and laced the food with a sedative. The girls all went to sleep early, and I stole the grenades they kept in their bags. I placed one at every fuse box and failsafe in the place and wired them all to one controller. A few guards tried to stop me, but they were off guard and I didn’t give them time to call out for help. Then I went to see The Father. He tried to pin me down onto the table, but I refused. He was shocked. No one ever talked back to him. I told him I was done with doing what he wanted, that I wasn’t going to let him ruin my life anymore. Let him ruin any one’s life anymore. I pressed the detonator. The place exploded. I managed to get out, but just.

“I had no idea what I was going to do. I’d only planned up until I took them down, never what I’d do after. I guess a part of me thought it would never work. But it had. I had been raised to be an assassin. I didn’t know how to do anything else. Luckily, I didn’t have that problem for long. I had gotten on MI6’s radar as part of The Father’s plan, and they wanted me dead. They caught me relatively soon after I blew up the facility, but they decided I was more valuable alive than dead, at least then. It also may have helped that I didn’t fight once I knew what they wanted. I told them everything I knew about those people, which wasn’t much. They didn’t tell their ‘programs’ much about the rest of the organization. Then I met M. The only M I think I’ll ever call M. She offered me a job. I asked her why she thought that was a good idea. She said that orphans make the best recruits. I guess she was right.”

Barker stopped. She was staring at a spot on the wall opposite, as she had been since she began talking. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the pillows. Her voice, which had remained the same monotone throughout her story, had sounded like it had just given out from too much strain. It was as if every word she had spoken was a horrible toxin being slowly drawn out of her system. She lay back, frozen, looking too scared to move. Her stomach and chest had stilled. After a long second, she opened her eyes and looked back at Bond.

Bond hadn’t moved for the whole of her story. He didn’t notice, but the hand on Barker’s stomach had gently moved to her opposite hip, arm lying protectively over her body. She took his silence as disapproval or disgust, and she hid her eyes and made to turn away. She was surprised when Bond moved his hand up to her head and pulled her to his chest. He held her there, making sure she could rest her weight on him and not worry about falling. She stiffened when he first began to move her, but he felt her slowly sag against his chest. He waited until she was settled before speaking.

“So that’s why you protect your left arm so well.” Bond felt her tense up in his arms, and drew back, worried he had done something wrong. He was somewhat surprised when he saw she was trying very hard not to cry. Her left arm was clenched tight, her head bowed and her chest heaving. But she was deathly quiet. She must’ve felt him pull away, because she curled up even tighter, clutching her left arm to her chest. He moved back forwards and tucked one finger under her chin. He felt no resistance as he raised her head, but she kept her eyes down.

“Yes. That’s why.” Her voice wavered ever so slightly but she still managed to speak clearly. She still wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“They used one of those on me. I know it’s not the one you’ve got.” Bond kept his hand supporting her head, still encouraging her to make eye contact.

“No. It’s an incredibly weak copy. They modeled it off of the early designs for the ones they used on us. They still haven’t gotten it right.” She smiled, but there was no humor in it. It looked incredibly out of place like someone had painted it on. “Lucky you.”

“Lucky me,” Bond said, but he was still focused on the fact that Barker still refusing to look at him. He ran his hand down her neck, quickly retracting it when she flinched away like he had struck her. He remembered how 005 had done the same thing and internally berated himself. He should’ve remembered that. Slowly, telegraphing his movements so she could stop him, he reached over and cupped one hand around her face. “Who else knows?”

“Mr. Holmes. A few people outside of MI6. M knew, of course.” Finally, she looked up and stared straight at Bond. “And you.”

Bond didn’t move his hand, didn’t take his eyes off hers, and she didn’t break eye contact either. But he could see her fear. She was still fighting hard to hold in her tears. She was shaking with the effort of staying still. He recognized the look, the feeling when you want to run, to fight, but you can’t. He wanted to wipe that look off of her face, make her smile, make her forget all of the pain she was feeling right now. But she was still too damn stubborn. All of her walls were still up, shutting the world out, hiding behind a front. He was the same if he was honest with himself. The cockiness, the confidence, the dry humor. All to cover up the broken person inside. The one you worked so hard to keep buried in your head. He drowned his with alcohol.

Barker was still sitting across from him, waiting. She hadn’t looked away. Her left arm was still tight against her chest, trembling slightly. He didn’t push her any further and coaxed her back to his chest. He murmured gently as she curled up against him.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Barker.”

Her voice was slightly muffled, but he still made out what she said in return. “I don’t know how to be anything else, 007.”

He tightened his grip, trying to shield her from whatever was hurting her. He ran his hand over her back, unsure how to make her let some of her walls drop. At last, his efforts were rewarded. Quiet, hushed sobs began to sound from the agent he held, her body shaking like a skittish animal. He moved his hand up to cup her neck, gently pulling her head away from him as he stood. He retrieved one of the blankets that were folded over the chair and walked back to her, unfolding it as he went. He looked up to see the slightly exasperated expression on her face. Stubbornness, it seemed, was something they had in common. Smirking slightly as he wrapped the blanket around her, he cupped her face again and gently brushed away some of the tears on her cheek. She shook her head, looking away, curling in on herself again.

“Don’t,” he said softly. When she looked back in confusion, he placed both hands on either side of her head. “Don’t shut yourself up with your mind. As someone who speaks from experience, it doesn’t work.”

She nodded once, another tear falling. “I know. But I can’t do anything else.”

“Yes, you can.” He tucked her head under his chin and let her cry into his chest. “You can let me take care of you.”

* * *  
A knock sounded at the door. Barker was curled up on the bed, sleeping fitfully under the blanket Bond had wrapped her in. The Double-Oh himself had drawn his weapon at the first sound. Casting a quick glance at the agent on the bed, he moved carefully to the door. Raising the weapon, he stood off the side and aimed the weapon upwards, his arm resting against the door. A dampened voice sounded from the other side.

“Do holster your weapon, 007. It’s not polite to threaten someone with a firearm when they have done nothing wrong.” Unfortunately, he recognized the voice. And it wasn’t someone he could just dismiss.

Bond reluctantly pun down the gun on the table within reach and unlocked the door, swinging it open. Mycroft Holmes stood there, looking as polished as ever in his pinstriped suit and the black umbrella swinging from one arm. He looked suspiciously out of place in the somewhat run-down flat, and judging by his miffed expression, he felt the same. He smiled icily at the Double-Oh agent as he stepped through.

“Now, was that so hard?” His voice took on a lilt like he was scolding a child. Clearly, Bond didn’t appreciate that. And apparently, it showed on his face.

“Why are you here, Mr. Holmes?” He said, keeping the door open as a way to show he was more than happy to have Mycroft leave. Instead, two other people walked through. One was a thin, almost skeletal man with curls similar to Q’s. He was also wearing a suit, except he had forgone the tie and chose to leave the top buttons undone. He came through quickly and stopped, eyes scanning over the Double-Oh. He looked back up and his mouth opened.

“You’re an agent who lost your parents at a very young age, it was a traumatic experience that you’ve never fully recovered from. You turn to alcohol as a way to make yourself forget the mistakes of your past, but it never quite works. You also use women as a way to forget but those have a habit of either turning out very wrong or not becoming a permanent solution. Two women, in particular, both who betrayed you and then died because of it. You have a self-destructive personality that makes you an ideal candidate for missions where there are not high odds of the agent it is assigned to coming back alive.”

“Sherlock, stop.” Bond was incredibly grateful that Q had just interrupted the tirade of rather alarmingly accurate observations the man in front of him had just spouted. Sherlock - honestly, who named these people? - turned around and shot Q a disappointed look. Q reacted defensively. “What?”

“Really? Him?” Sherlock spat, making it sound like an accusation.

“You’re in no position to judge, Sherlock,” Q shot back. He crossed his arms, looking surprisingly intimidating for his small figure, even though Bond knew first-hand how intimidating he could actually be. “Last I checked, you’ve got one too. And yours is married.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. Surely you must know that.”

“Ahem.” The three looked back over at Mycroft, who had been standing there, looking annoyed despite his obvious agreement with Sherlock’s statement. He tapped his umbrella once on the ground and motioned for Bond to close the door. “Might I interrupt to remind you of what we are actually doing here?”

Sherlock looked Bond up and down once more before turning and striding through the house. Mycroft followed soon after, leaving just Q and Bond by the door. Q sighed and turned to the Double-Oh, who was still looking more than a little bit annoyed at having his flat invaded. “Sorry about them. They’re not the easiest people to get along with.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.” Bond picked up the gun and flicked on the safety before putting it back down. “At least I know that it’s no use trying to lie to them. Did he read my file before coming here?”

“No, that’s Sherlock Holmes for you. Consulting detective. Whenever Scotland Yard have a case they can’t solve, which is most of the time, they call on him.” Q ran his fingers through his curls.

“Wonderful.” Bond started walking in the direction the other two had taken. “For the one person who doesn’t have your special brand of mind-reading, why are you here?”

Q followed, catching up with him. “To see if Barker’s alright. I told them she needed time to recover, but I’m sure you can guess how well that went. And I’d like to see how she is myself.”

Bond increased his pace. If he found it hard to deal with the Holmes brothers, how was Barker going to react?

As it turned out, the Holmes brothers hadn’t gone into the bedroom and were stood watching by the door. Q joined them and the three of them slowly stepped into the room, keeping their distance from the bed. Bond remained at the door. Barker was still asleep where Bond had left her, unaware of the people in the room. Sherlock stepped forwards first, carefully approaching the bed and crouching down next to her head.

“You can stop pretending. You know who’s here. It’s just the four of us.”

Barker opened her eyes and sat up, bringing her left arm back into her chest. She looked at Sherlock, who was still squatting next to her. Her voice was still imperfect.

“Hello, Sherlock.”

“Hello, Barker.”

“No Dr. Watson today?”

“No, he’s busy, I’m afraid.”

“You mean you didn’t tell him.”

“No. He thinks I’m at Bart’s.”

“Why are you here?”

“To make sure you’re alright,” Sherlock said, not batting an eye, “you don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to returning alive.”

“You’re one to talk,” Barker said, smiling.

“On the contrary, I’ve yet to die once,” Sherlock said, straightening. Mycroft came forward next.

“I assume you were unable to obtain a device,” The Chairman said, tapping his umbrella on the bedpost, “unsurprising, given that you failed to maintain your cover.”

“Mycroft!” Sherlock shouted, just as Q yelled “Oi!” at his brother. Bond had come into the room and was standing at the foot of the bed. Barker glanced around at the people in various stages of anger before turning her attention back to The Chairman. Sherlock, however, spoke first.

“If you want the full debrief, I’m sure it can wait until a later date. And I highly doubt she did anything wrong. You know the value of Agent Barker. Both to you and to this country.” He glared at Mycroft, who barely reacted.

“The mission was to obtain the device. Asking if the agent completed the mission is not a crime, Sherlock.” He regarded the man coolly. Q piped up angrily.

“Could you at least act a little bit less than the Ice Man we all know you to be? We all know the importance of that mission, but it’s not the most important thing right now.”

“And what is the safety of one agent in the grand scheme of thing, dear brother?” Mycroft turned his gaze to Q. “One life compared to thousands?”

“And what risks do you take to keep yourself safe, brother dear?” Sherlock said smugly. “One life is surely not worth all of the idiots and goldfish you hire.”

“I have a certain value to this country due to my position, and that itself comes with the protection. I myself do not organize it.”

“Then mind telling us what the difference is?” Q said.

“There are more agents that are capable of handling what Barker handles regularly,” Mycroft retorted, “others can learn what she knows.”

“Then why bother to save her and dismiss ‘Valerie Rosenberg’ when the issue arose?” Q smiled triumphantly.

They looked ready to continue when Bond coughed. The three looked around and stared at him, surprised at the interruption. He motioned to the bed where Barker sat nonchalantly twirling the device she had been sent to retrieve in her right hand. She passed it to Sherlock.

“This thing, right?” She blinked innocently. Mycroft’s mouth made a tight line as he took the device from Sherlock and stormed out, not bothering to acknowledge anyone else. Sherlock followed, smirking. He winked at Barker as he left.

“You’re getting better at that.”

Q shook his head before following. “I’ll make sure you’re all set for when you come back. Are you alright?”

“Yes. Thank you,” Barker smiled at the Quartermaster as he left. When all three Holmes brothers had left the flat, her smile slipped and she flopped back down onto the bed, groaning. Bond laughed, coming to sit next to her on the bed, causing the mattress to bounce slightly as he did so.

“Tired?”

“You could say that.” Barker’s voice was slurred and not sarcastic in the slightest. “The Ice Man will do that to you.”

“I can tell.” Bond gently tugged Barker’s body around so she was leaning towards him. “How are you holding up?”

“Dealing with the aftershocks.” Her head dropped into the hollow of his throat, eyes closing.

“Aftershocks?”

“When the implant is activated like that, the toxin will continue to have an effect even after the implant is deactivated. The recovery time grows longer and longer every time the implant is used to that extent.” Barker’s voice grew more tired. “Averages a few days, now.”

“You said it causes you to see people who aren’t there?” Bond was careful not to push her too far. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and the other steadied her head. When he felt her nod, he continued. “That wasn’t 005 who shot you, was it?”

“No.” Barker nestled closer to the agent. “Why do you think I gave up so easily?”

Bond ran his hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what he did to you. And I’m sorry no one was there to stop him.”

Barker shifted back, gently whacking Bond on the arm. Luckily, she still had barely a kitten’s strength. “Like I said before. It’s not your fault. Stop apologizing.” Bond grinned as he replied.

“Yes, Ms. Barker.” He was rewarded with a small laugh. Changing the subject, he opened his arms to her again. “What about the fact that Q has brothers?”

“Actually, I knew them before I knew Q. The sarcasm and intelligence run in the family.”

“Seems like quite a handful.”

“Mycroft isn’t so bad. He practically is the British Government, when he’s not busy being MI5, the CIA, or another dozen random agencies. Sherlock is the most, uh, outgoing. But he’s nice enough. He has a heart, despite his constant insistence to the contrary. Q’s the normal one,” Barker said, leaning back into Bond, “which is bloody terrifying.”

“You know your family’s strange when Q is the bloody normal one.”

“Clearly, normal is only a relative term. No one is normal and normal is boring.”

How true that statement was.


	11. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barker recovers, and Six starts digging. 
> 
> Someone isn't happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! I'm not dead! Sorry this is so late I've been on vacation with no access to AO3. I'm back now

It took a few days until Barker fully recovered. She did heed Bond’s order and didn’t try to do anything stressful until the end of the week. After that, however, she was right back in the center, striding back into Six as if she had never left. The first day, when she walked into Q-Branch, R almost dropped the prototype she was holding in surprise. She passed it off as a chill, but the way Barker smirked once she had passed revealed just how thin the lie was. Q reacted more normally, opening the door to his office to welcome her back in. Moneypenny was there too, sitting in one of the chairs opposite the desk. She stood as Barker walked in.

“Well, looks like Bond isn’t the only one who specializes in resurrection.”

“I didn’t die, Miss Moneypenny,” Barker smiled, “resurrection is when someone comes back from the dead. I simply recovered. There’s a difference.”

Moneypenny rolled her eyes and Q laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He didn’t react well to Sherlock, I’m not sure how he’ll tolerate you being that nitpicky about it.”

Moneypenny turned with wide eyes. “Wait, Bond’s met Sherlock?” She fought to hide her snicker. “Let me guess, he was ready to kill him in about two minutes?”

“I’d bet the next prototype on around thirty seconds. And even then he’d be showing remarkable restraint,” Q chuckled. And of course, Bond took that exact moment to walk in. His appearance made Q and Moneypenny collapse into laughter. Barker met Bond’s questioning look with a smirk.

“How long after meeting Sherlock Holmes would you say you wanted to murder him?” She asked innocently. Bond scoffed.

“By the time he had gotten to the part about my drinking habits, I’d say. What was that, thirty seconds?” Barker smiled and turned back.

“Q gets the next prototype!” She sang gaily. Moneypenny managed to compose herself.

“No fair. They know each other too well.” She glared at Q, who returned the gaze with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re complaining? You win practically every bet you make. Let me have my one victory.” Both Barker and Bond made gestures of agreement. Moneypenny sighed, before looking back up at Barker.

“Other than to prove that Q knows his lover better than everybody else, pray tell why you have graced us with your presence?” She smiled.

“Holmesian irritation doesn’t suit you, Miss Moneypenny,” Barker smiled, “I came to return my equipment.”

Q snorted. “That is the worst attempt at saying ‘I don’t have anything to return’ I think I’ve ever heard. And I have to deal with Bond.” He ignored the annoyed look said agent sent his way. He turned down his sardonic tone to smile at Barker. “Unlike him, however, you have a perfectly acceptable excuse.”

“And I never do?” Bond interjected. Q frowned and the two looked like they were about to start arguing when Barker produced a black case and set it down in front of the Quartermaster. She opened it and set the items inside on the table.

“Glock 26, clip missing two bullets. One earpiece, still fully functional, data bank intact.” She closed the case and looked up at the Quartermaster. Q pulled the item towards him and quickly checked over the gun. After examining the earpiece, he set it back down on the table. He looked at Barker for a minute, before shaking his head and glancing at Bond, who had come forward to look over the items on the table.

“007. Take notes.” Bond looked at Barker, who was still looking at Q. He muttered to him as he stalked around the desk to lean against the wall.

“Sure, next you’ll tell me she’s already been to see Mallory for a debriefing and filed her mission report,” he scoffed. Moneypenny opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by Tanner as he walked into the room, followed by 006. Alec headed for the side of the room, stopping once next to Barker.

“Hello, all. Good to see you’re back.” He clapped Barker on the shoulder, slightly harder than necessary. Barker winced. He leaned on the back of Moneypenny’s chair. Tanner spoke up, addressing Q.

“Mallory wants you all to help with the analyzing of what exactly happened over there. We’ve gotten some more intel from The Chairman, and Barker’s going to be a lot of help there. Luckily, we can get started right away.” He took a seat across from Moneypenny, frowning slightly at the fact that she was trying very hard not to laugh. A glance over at Q revealed much the same look. “Mind telling me what’s so funny?”

Bond spoke up from the back. “Don’t we have to wait for Barker’s debrief and her mission report to be filed?”

“She did that this morning, came to see M. Handed in her mission report too.” Tanner looked bemused at the way Bond scowled at Barker. “What?”

“Never mind,” Bond said as Barker moved to lean against the wall across from him. 006 smirked once, and Bond ignored him before he continued. “Where do we start?”

“Well, first off, why did 005 betray us?” Barker said, crossing her arms. “And why would she take me?”

“Because we know who they are now. And what they want.” Tanner mirrored Barker’s position and met her gaze. “We’ve got some new intel from The Chairman. Like all of their other branches, they’re trying to make their way into various organizations so they can pull off a master puppet act.” He rolled his eyes. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

“So what’s different this time around?” Q said. He had turned around in his chair.

“How they’re doing it. Before, standard infiltration was their preferred method.” Tanner glanced at Bond. “But now they’re focused on assimilation.”

“Assimilation?” Moneypenny asked, sickened. “What on earth does that mean?”

“And how on earth are they planning to do it?” Alec added. Q answered, his face white.

“Those devices. That’s what they’re for.” Tanner nodded.

“They work by injecting a toxin much like the one that 007 was injected with during Germany. That toxin allows them to control the subject’s emotional levels. They can cause incredible pain or pleasure. It gives them full control. Effectively, it’s a kill switch.”

“So that’s what they meant when they said ‘interrogation and pleasure,’” Moneypenny said, “sounds delightful.”

“The ones they’ve developed are being put out for a test run. That’s what that auction in Russia was,” Tanner continued, “because of how they were advertised, the likelihood is that people will try them on themselves. And once they do that, they’re practically part of the agency.”

“But why sell them to ordinary people?” Q asked. “What’s the use of having a group of ordinary people?”

“This is just a test run. My guess is they’re just looking for data. How well these implants do,” Tanner grimaced, “and, if they do work, most of those people have connections. Others they can use to get into important places.”

“This is just getting better and better,” Barker sighed. Moneypenny nodded.

“But where does 005 fit into all of this?” She said. “She didn’t have an implant, did she?”

“No. Seems the higher-ups aren’t given one,” Tanner said, “005 was one of the agents stationed at MI6. She was to evaluate the threat level and take care of anything that seemed too much of a threat. Clearly, she underestimated said threat.” He smiled at Barker.

“One of the agents?” Bond said, alarmed. “What do you mean one of the agents?”

“There’s never just one agent,” Tanner said, “there was another. Unfortunately, he decided it would be better to just get the ‘liability’” - he said the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth - “out of the way, and sell the intel to the others. Arrogance, plain and simple. They took care of him for that, can’t say I feel bad for him.”

“Liability…” Moneypenny wrinkled her brow. “Where have I heard that before?”

“Agent Garrett,” Bond said, looking at Barker. “He must’ve dosed you with the toxin before going off.”

“Medical found a swelling by your throat when you came back,” Q broke in, “Bond had his throat almost swollen shut when you brought him back. The dose must’ve just been to knock you out.”

Alec buried his face in his hands. “Two, in Six. Did either of them have implants?”

“I don’t think so. The implants are still at a stage where they don’t know if they work or not. That’s partly why they were sold at the auction. They don’t want to risk any of their actual agents yet. They’ve only tested the new implants once on a possible recruit once, as far as I know.”

“What do you mean by ‘possible?’” Q asked. “They haven’t recruited them yet?”

“They recruit by blackmail, false deals, or, apparently through how well the implant works. Of course, those people tend to have a specific skill set.” He locked eyes with Bond. “And background.”

The office was silent. Bond was the first to speak. “So there was a reason they tried that horrible thing on me. They want to recruit me.”

“Yes,” Tanner said, “unfortunately, it seems the new implant worked. Quite well, actually.”

“You keep saying ‘new’. Aren’t these the first ones they’ve developed?” 006 asked.

Barker winced. Tanner didn’t say anything either. Bond answered instead. “According to 005, the earlier stages of the implants were too unpredictable to be able to be used. The latest ones were only put into testing recently.” 006 seemed satisfied by the answer. Barker snuck a glance at Bond and mouthed a thank you. Q directed his question towards Moneypenny.

“So what now?” The woman looked shaken.

“I don’t know. How do we know half of those people haven’t been assimilated already?” She leaned back in her chair, sighing. She looked over at Tanner. “Is there no way we can find out if they have been?”

Tanner looked at Q, who nodded and pushed himself out of the way. He walked forwards and started typing on the computer. On the screens behind them, a map of the world flickered to life. Glowing blue dots affixed themselves to the map, marking several locations in the USA, in Asia, in Europe, and in Africa. “These mark the locations of the places we know the raw materials for the devices has been found, going by R&D’s analysis of the device found by Barker.”

He hit another set of keys, and another set of dots sprang up. They covered rural areas in the outskirts of Russia, Mongolia, and Canada in green. “This is where the devices have been produced and dispersed. They’re the main hubs of the production line, according to some of the companies who fit the device description.”

Another flurry of typing triggered yellow dots that were dotted around the globe, mainly centered in major cities in the USA, Russia, and the majority of Eastern Europe. “These are the people who don’t know what these things do, but for some reason, they have one. They haven’t been activated yet, and they’re mostly just people who bought them, not knowing what they actually are.”

“What about the people who they’re interested in recruiting?” Bond asked. The people in the room had come forwards and centered themselves around the screens and Q’s desk. Q was closest to Moneypenny, who had shooed 006 off of her chair. The Double-Ohs were flanking Agent Barker, gathered just to the side of Q’s desk. Tanner hit one more key and turned to face the screens.

The map had accommodated another set of dots, this time red. Most of the USA was obscured, as was most of England, and a few were scattered around the globe. The agents present recognized some of them as ongoing missions. The rest were likely other agents in various intelligence organizations or governments. Tanner moved out of the way and allowed Q to reclaim his computer. “Well, that’s alarming.”

The statement seemed to sum up the intel Tanner had just gone through. The sheer size of the operation they had discovered was alarming, and now they were smack dab in the middle of it. Moneypenny broke the silence.

“So how do we stop them? Barker?”

“In short, we have to find a way to disable all of the implants without the main controllers figuring it out. Unfortunately,” Barker snuck a glance over at Bond, “the implants can work independently, there’s no individual thing that controls them all, and they get their power from the person they’re embedded in.”

Alec passed a hand over his face. “As far as we know, none of the potential recruits have an implant yet, right?”

Tanner nodded. “As far as we know.”

“How long until they start targeting the people to give them implants?” Q said, fingers still flying over the keyboard, “and who are they most likely to target first?”

“We don’t know. They’ve been so sporadic in what they’ve been doing we haven’t been able to figure out what connects them,” Tanner sighed, “I wish we knew. So we just have to wait.” He turned to leave. “I’ll go notify M. Something’s better than nothing. Moneypenny?”

“Might as well.” Moneypenny picked up her phone and began scrolling through e-mails. “Might be more use up in my office. You’ll tell me if there’s any change, right?” She glanced up at Q.

“Of course.” The Quartermaster was still looking over the map Tanner had pulled up. “I’m not sure whether we’ll find much of anything past what we already know.”

A beep from Moneypenny’s phone drew their attention. “Guess we’re being summoned.” Tanner and Moneypenny left Q-Branch, leaving Barker, Q, and the two Double-Ohs standing around the screens.

“How on earth did they get all of this so quickly?” 006 peered at the screens, trying to discern one set of dots from the others. “Did he do this by himself?”

“Not entirely. I’ve got a few contacts outside of Six that did their fair share of the work.” Barker folded her arms. “But I’ve done enough infiltration to know the scope of everything. And the Holmes community can move very fast when they want to.”

006 faced her, an expression of disbelief on his face. “Just how old are you again?”

“Why?” Barker cocked her head to the side, frowning. “Why should that affect it? As I’m sure the Quartermaster has shown you, age is no guarantee of efficiency.”

“And youth is no guarantee of innovation,” Bond and 006 said at the same time. Q rolled his eyes. Barker smiled.

“Mid-twenties, sir. Not that it matters.” She made eye contact with Q. “They never stop mocking you for your age, do they?”

“No. No, they do not,” Q sighed. “Unfortunately, they do not seem to grasp the concept that they are not the only people who can do a job well.”

“Well, as you’ve said, sir, Double-Ohs are not chosen for their intelligence,” Barker said bluntly. Q nodded in agreement.

“True. They’re definitely not the sharpest knives in the drawer, now are they?”

“Based on their success at their jobs, I’m not exactly sure that was the best analogy,” Barker said seriously, “maybe it’s the old age? One definite advantage of youth: a quicker mind.”

“Oi, you two,” Bond said sharply, “we are still here, you know.”

“I’m sorry, I thought your hearing aids weren’t,” Barker simpered, mockingly raising her voice slightly as one would speaking to an elderly person, “I’m very sorry.” She danced away as Alec made to wrap an arm around her waist. She failed to escape and ended up trapped against Q’s desk.

“Watch that sharp tongue of yours, Barker,” Alec said, his hand pressed to her stomach to keep her still. He leaned forward so their faces were inches apart. “It could get you into quite a lot of trouble.”

“Pot, kettle,” Barker said, “and I’m pretty sure it already has.” Her breathing increased slightly, and her left arm began to tense.

“Alec, back off. No use frightening the little kitten, you know how skittish children can be,” Bond cautioned. Alec smirked before raising his hands and moving away. Barker folded her arms across her chest. Alec turned to Bond.

“Don’t get greedy, Bond. You’ve already got one pet; you don’t need two,” he smirked. Bond laughed and shoved his shoulder. Alec raised his hands and turned away. Barker looked at Q.

“Are they always like this?” Q nodded. She rolled her eyes. “Wonderful. So now what?”

  
“Now we wait.” Q kept typing, despite shooting an annoyed look at the Double-Ohs. “And we try to figure out what they’ll do next.”

* * *  
As it turned out, they didn’t have to wait for long.

It started when one of the kits brought back by the agents was dropped off on R’s desk. She started going through it when the device started beeping. The agent had been assigned a bug that they had been tasked to retrieve. It wasn’t supposed to explode. Well, try telling that to R.

“Live one!” The cry triggered a large rush of human activity as every minion got up and tried to flee. R flung the device across the room to the blast section of R&D. It detonated just inside the door. A yellowish smoke filled the room and clouded the windows as Q-Branch breathed a collective sigh of relief. R slogged back to her desk where Q stood alarmed. “Why did that happen?”

“I don’t know. That wasn’t the intended purpose of the bug,” Q said, still staring at the billowing clouds behind the windows of R&D. “What is that?”

“No idea.” R watched as the smog dissipated into a fine mist before vanishing entirely. Soon afterward, R&D declared everything was safe and work returned to normal. “Should we go see what that was?”

“No, let R&D sort it out. That’s their job,” Q sighed as he turned to go back into his office. R nodded and went back to her desk. Q shut the door to his office, willing to get back to the endless amounts of bloody paperwork that came with being the Quartermaster, but an urgent beeping from his computer quickly banished that to the back of his mind. Quickly, he made his way around to see what was coming up on the computer. His eyes went wide. “Everybody out!”

For the second time in only a few minutes, the entirety of Q-Branch tried to leave. But unfortunately, someone had other plans. The smoke from the other explosive that R had flung to the side had wafted up into the smoke detectors and triggered the fire extinguishers. The room was filled with a white powder that made it increasingly hard to see. As the crowd surged towards the door, the voices grew louder and louder. So loud, in fact, that the soft click of the double doors locking wasn’t heard. Two minions were crushed in the onslaught of people attempting to leave Q-Branch, running full force into the doors that refused to give way. As the crowd slowly realized they couldn’t leave, the entire room blacked out.

The power outage meant that no one could see more than two feet in front of their face. The noise began to rise steadily, as the crowd got more and more riled up. Eventually, the crowd lapsed into terrified silence, triggered by a sudden appearance of light. The screen at the front of the room powered up.

The screen was blank; the stark whiteness casting a frightening shadow onto the onlookers. The crowd had gradually shifted so that everyone could see what was appearing. A blood-red seal was fading into view, standing out harshly against the white. It stayed there, not moving, obscuring some of the faces in a red hue. Nothing happened. For long, tense seconds, no one moved. No one dared to breathe.

Then the crowd drew an audible gasp. In the bottom right-hand corner of the screen, a pulsing red dot blinked into existence. It was the exact same color as the seal. It was slowly oscillating in size, lazily distorting the pristine white background. The crowd shifted uneasily, unsure what to make of it. Then another appeared. Two-thirds along the top to the left, a second red spot began to beat. It blinked in time with the first.

A third dot materialized directly above the seal, beating along with the other two. There was no apparent pattern to the arrangement of the spots, just that they all shared the same rhythm. Then, more dots began to emerge spontaneously from the background. Unlike the first three, they came into view in rapid succession, barely a second between the appearances. The screen was soon covered in blood red dots, except for a two-inch border around the seal. The dots were barely an inch apart, and all pulsed in time. The crowd was eerily silent.

Abruptly, the dots began to pulse faster. At first, it was barely noticeable, but then the pulses began to widen, occupying the space in between the dots so that the whole screen was red. The vibrations grew to a point where it looked like the dots were disappearing and reappearing in two different sizes; it was almost painful to look at. But no one looked away, for fear that they might miss something. Then the dots exploded.

The red coloring splattered messily over the screen, obscuring the seal in a bath of blood red. As the light basking, the onlookers turned to a deep crimson, the screen began to fade, dousing Q-Branch in total darkness. Still, no one moved. No one made a sound. Well, no one made a sound.

The beeping started out softly, and it was difficult to pinpoint where it was coming from. The minions closest to the door turned to see a red flashing light coming from the computer nearest the wall, the main compartment beeping away. The sound was unimpeded as it traveled through the crowd. They then realized another computer, closer to the front row, was beeping in time with the first machine. Soon, the masses of computers joined in, beeping out the same rhythm as the dots on the screen. As this fact struck the crowd, one by one, the tense silence that had been building was finally shattered. Voices began to call out in fear, the sounds becoming more hysterical as the beeps slowly began to increase in rate. When the rate of the beeps had doubled, the screen flickered back to life.

Instead of a white background, the screen was black with a digital red timer occupying the center. The seconds began to tick back from one minute, clicking in time with the cacophony of the many machines. At the sight, the crowd began to move, frantically scattering then coming back together, unable to figure out a way to stop the countdown. Then another voice joined the din. But this one overpowered all other noises in the room, causing the rest of the crowd to fall silent.

A deep, grating voice filled the room, reverberating effortlessly off the walls. Even though the speaker wasn’t visible, the intimidating effect was instantaneous. The crowd instantly stilled and stared in horror at the screen.

“This is what it will all come to. Seconds ticking down to the end of your existence. Nothing can stop it. Nothing will stop it. And you will submit to us. You will become one of us. And then you will cease to exist.”

The words had overpowered all other noises in the room. All other emotions, leaving only fear in the eyes of the people watching.

“You cannot fight. We can see everything. We can control everything. And everything had been planned. Every detail accounted for. Nothing you do will make a difference. Nothing – “

The voice cut out and the screen died. The beeps were silenced. No one moved. No one knew what to make of the sudden stop. A figure slowly appeared from the wall, standing in the doorway. All eyes fixated upon the outline silhouetted against the opening.

“Well, then you should have predicted that I’d find a way to shut you up,” Q said as the lights flickered back on. The minions breathed a collective sigh of relief, straightening up and smiling. Q looked over at the two minions being helped up from their brief encounter with the door. “Go down to Medical, get yourselves looked over. We don’t want to give the Double-Ohs another chance to boast about the fragility of Q-Branch, do we?”

As the two were assisted down to Medical, Q looked over the rest of the crowd, smiling slightly.

“I am very pleased that resulted in not much other than a small injury.”

The crowd stood silently. Q’s smile grew.

“Now get back to work.”

The minions laughed as they went back to their desks, computers now thankfully diffused. As the normal sound of typing resumed in the main section of Q-Branch, Q strode back into his office and shut the door. He frowned at his computer screen, where there was a screen capture of the seal. He looked over the details before picking up the phone sitting next to his desk. He spoke with a clipped, harsh tone.

“Get Tanner, Moneypenny, 006, 007, and Agent Barker to my office. Now.”

* * *  
“Well, that was dramatic,” 006 said as the playback finished. As soon as the Quartermaster had sent for them, the agents had assembled in mere minutes to see what had happened. 006 and 007 were leaning over Q’s shoulders, looking at the seal.

“It’s definitely the same seal, I recognize it from that auctioneer’s ring,” Bond said as he straightened up, “do we know how they got into the system?”

“No, I’m trying to trace the IP address, but it’s being difficult. It’s got a very low TTL so it constantly queries the new address. It’s running off different addresses that use an exploited server to come up with the said new address. And since there are thousands of exploited servers on the Internet, it’s like finding a needle in a proverbial haystack.”

“But you can do it?” 006 asked. He was always in a bit over his head whenever Q started talking about his technology.

Q smirked. “Of course. Now shoo. I have work to do.”

006 left first, followed by Tanner. Moneypenny waited a few seconds to smirk at Bond before joining Tanner at the lift. Bond looked back at Q only to see him immersed in his computer. He considered waving his hand in front of Q’s face just to see what he would do, but Q looked up and glared at him as he approached. Bond raised his hands and backed away, laughing.

“Come on, Barker. We better leave the Quartermaster to his important work.” Bond turned to start out, stopping when he noticed Barker hadn’t moved. In fact, … she hadn’t moved since the recording started playing. She was standing in the corner, hand on her left arm, staring at Q’s computer screen. “Barker?”

She seemed to start out of her daze, blinking and forcing her left arm down. “Sorry, coming.” She followed Bond out of the room. The two walked down to the lift, and Bond keyed in the access code for the Double-Oh range. When the doors slid open, Bond walked out and strode to the table, picking up one of the firearms lying on its side.

“Technically, this range is reserved for the Double-Ohs. No other agents allowed. But I’m sure no one will make a fuss if you come here too.” He looked up to see that Barker hadn’t moved more than a few steps away from the elevator doors. Frowning, he placed the gun back down on the table and walked back towards her. “Barker?”

She didn’t move. Her left arm was back in her hand, and her eyes were glued to a spot on the floor. Her lips were moving slowly, it looked like she was trying to form words. When he got close enough, he realized she was muttering the same thing over and over again.

  
“No…impossible…blown up…back…no…impossible…blown up…” Barker said, murmuring over and over. Bond drew closer. His eyes widened. Barker was having a panic attack.

Frantically, he tried to remember what he was supposed to do when someone was having a panic attack. He wasn’t really the best person to go to for comfort. And he never really paid attention in all of those forced seminars the shrinks in Medical made him attend. But he could tell how stressed Barker was. There were little beads of sweat forming on her brow, and her breathing was becoming increasingly erratic. Her hand was gripping her arm so tightly her knuckles were turning white, and her hand was going red from cut-off circulation. Bond shook his head. He had to try.

“Barker?” He said gently, crouching slightly so he was looking at her. “Where are you?”

“No…can’t be…dead…blown up…how?” Barker continued to mumble softly, not even registering the fact that Bond had interrupted her view of the floor. Her breathing became more labored. She drew her arm back to her chest, eyes widening in fear. But her gaze was still distant.

“Come on, Barker.” Bond continued to speak softly, trying to pull her out of her daze. “Look at me. Where are you?”

“No…won’t let you…won’t hurt anyone…won’t control me…get out…” Barker began to fall further into her own mind, beginning to shake her head slightly. After hesitating, Bond stood slowly and walked closer, standing less than a foot away from the trembling woman.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Get out…blown up…impossible…dead…back…”

“Barker.” Bond reached out and tried to tug Barker’s hand away from her chest. In a flash, she lashed out and struck him across the chest. Not hard, but enough to shock him and force him to take a step back. He kept his distance and spoke again. “Where are you?”

“Back…no…dead…impossible…get out of my head…” Barker whispered. Her voice was slowly growing fainter, and she had drawn her arm back to her chest. Bond waited. He was afraid to try again. He didn’t want to hurt her. And he didn’t want her to hurt herself.

Or him.

“Barker, where are you?” He tried once more. He saw a flicker of movement behind her eyes. For the first time since her attack had started, she had registered the fact that he had spoken. Bond seized the advantage.

“Come on, Barker, you can do it.” He continued speaking slowly, not wanting to startle her back into her mind. “Where are you?”

“No…please…dead…don’t come back…” Barker’s voice was fading rapidly. It was getting harder for Bond to hear her. He risked a step closer.

“Stay with me, Barker. Where are you?”

Barker closed her eyes. Bond didn’t move. He didn’t know what to make of this new development. At last, Bond dared to repeat the question.

“Where are you, Barker?”

“I’m in MI6, in the private range for the Double-Ohs, no other agents allowed,” Barker said. Bond almost laughed in relief. Barker slowly opened her eyes and looked over to where the agent was still standing. “So what the hell am I doing here?”

Bond did laugh at that, striding forwards and wrapping her up in a hug without a second thought. Barker stiffened at first, before laughing and letting Bond hug her.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he said, tightening his grip on her for a moment before letting her go.

“I’ll try, but no promises,” Barker smiled before it slipped from her face. Bond noticed.

“Do you mind telling me what just happened?” He asked, waving her over to the table.

Barker stopped a few feet away from the guns. “I didn’t think it was anything, but…that recording. It…triggered something.”

“Triggered something? How?”

“I thought I had finished it. I thought they were gone. I thought it was impossible they made it out,” Barker muttered, staring off into the distance. Bond reached out and tapped her arm, trying to keep her attention.

“Finished what?” He asked.

“That voice. I remembered it.” Barker’s hand unconsciously went back towards her left arm. Before she could get there, Bond caught her gaze and she let her arm fall back down. “It was him.”

“Remembered it? But why would it have that effect on you…oh.” Bond suddenly realized what she was trying to say. There was only one ‘him’ who could make Agent Barker that scared.

“Yes. It’s The Father. He’s back.”  



	12. The First Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prep for the mission begins. 
> 
> 006 has some doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one day! Yay!

“No. That’s impossible.” Mycroft Holmes rose as the phone in his hand continued to squawk at him. “We’ve checked the records before and after the explosion. There is no way he survived.”

He listened for a few more moments as the voice on the other end relayed one more piece of information. His expression went from mildly annoyed to stone cold ice. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Tanner lowered the phone as the Chairman hung up. He looked over at where Q sat opposite the desk. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Q was unable to keep the sarcastic tone out of his voice, “he is my brother. We tend to work a bit better together than apart when it comes to stuff like this.”

“Well, you two certainly do,” Barker interrupted, coming inside, “Sherlock doesn’t really do that with anyone except for four people.”

“You’re not one of those four, are you?” Q said, turning to look.

“Heavens no. Don’t think I’ve earned that privilege yet.” Barker stopped just behind the Quartermaster’s chair, waiting for Tanner to speak. “It was him.”

“Are you sure?” Tanner asked. “I did just telephone The Chairman of National Security. I trust your judgment, but -”

“I understand sir. I promise you.” Barker turned her head as Mallory and Bond walked through the door. “M, I – “

Her voice was abruptly cut off as she took in the look on Mallory’s face. His neck had several veins popping out and his skin was deathly pale. Barker’s voice quieted significantly. “M?”

“Is it him?” Mallory said. He looked like he was about to faint. “Just tell me if it was him, Barker.”

“Yes,” Barker said, “are…are you alright?”

“I’m sorry, Agent Barker. I didn’t realize you were – “

“I thought he was dead, I wasn’t prepared,” Barker said, “it’s not your fault.”

“Do you know where he might be?” Mallory sat down in the chair next to Q and across from Tanner. “Any idea at all?”

“My gut is telling me Mongolia, but I’m not sure why. It’s not the main hub or anything. But…” Barker shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Is the Chairman on his way?” Tanner nodded.

“He’s on his way from his office. He should be here before too long.”

“Good. We’ll bring 006 up here as well; he’s had experience working with technology like this.” Mallory opened the door to his office and motioned them through. “In the meantime, do you mind telling us how you think we should go about, erm… “

“Taking him down? Of course.” Barker took a seat in one of the chairs opposite M’s desk, Q in the other. “Well, for starters, he never stayed in one place very long, well, at least not our place, unless it had been secured before. He used to have some kind of ID system to allow certain people in and out, but I don’t think the Quartermaster will struggle with that. Cybersecurity wasn’t much of a thing way back when, so he’s not the most capable in that regard. And you have the fact that Q is bloody incredible.”

“I’m not arguing with that.” Bond winked at Q from the doorway.

“So, Q should have no trouble getting into their network. I’m not the most technologically savvy, so please correct me if I’m wrong, but they used to have a way to have all of their computers linked to the same network, instead of going through the internet, but I’m not sure if it was just in our place or across the whole operation. Would there be a way to get into that network?”

Q nodded. “What it sounds like they have is an intranet, instead of being linked to the Internet. It’s a private network normally only accessible by known users with a specific password.” He smirked. “Normally.”

“Like I said, we shouldn’t have a problem with that. Can it be accessed through the Internet or is an onsite plant required?”

“Well, typically all intranets are linked to the internet in some way, but it will be difficult to figure out exactly which one is the one they’re using. It would be easier if we had something onsite. But I’m not sure how feasible that would actually be.”

“Well, generally, trying to kill someone who died years ago is difficult, seeing as they’re already dead.” The entrance of 006 was clearly indicated by his annoyed statement. “How do we even know if this is the same guy?”

“Because I recognized the voice,” Barker said quietly, her gaze still on M. 006 scoffed and crossed his arms.

“That’s what I’m supposed to believe? You recognized his voice?” He didn’t even bother to hide his disbelief.

“Alec, you might want to shut up now,” James warned from the doorway. Alec didn’t listen.

“No, of course, because it’s bloody Agent Barker, I’m just supposed to assume everything she says is correct, right?”

“You seem to think that most people in MI6 should do what you say just because you’re a Double-Oh,” Barker said softly, not looking away from M.

“I work for this agency and have a high-security clearance. And I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not.” Alec threw his arms up in the air and paced in a circle. “But no, Agent Barker says something and I’m just supposed to drop everything to go along with it.”

“006, you are out of line.” M tried to intervene but Alec just talked over him.

“You know I read that file that The Chairman dropped off. They think the Double-Ohs are bad?” He laughed. “You’re worse than all of us combined, claiming you did it for Queen and Country. How many of those did you kill or fuck just for fun? Or just because you could? Frankly, I’m surprised how clean your Medical records are. Or did you fake those too?”

“Alec!” James barked, but the other agent waved him off.

“Come on, James, you read the file too. You told me yourself, she’s worse than we are. What was he, a one-night stand gone wrong?”

“Alec, shut up. Seriously.” James had taken his friend’s arm and was trying to pull him away. “I don’t want to have to drag your sorry arse down to Medical again.”

Barker hadn’t moved her gaze from M and didn’t shift her position when Alec crouched down and mockingly draped his arm over her back. He slapped his hand down over her shoulder, hard enough to bruise. James winced as Barker gave slightly. Alec smiled and pressed his advantage.

“So, how can you be sure? Doesn’t the voice just mix in with all the others once you’ve gotten into the thousands?” He tightened his grip on Barker’s shoulder.

James shot forwards to pull him off, but Barker’s voice made him freeze. In fact, it made everyone freeze.

“Well, when someone rapes you as a child you tend to remember their voice.”

Alec’s face turned white and he removed his arm carefully. “I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t know – “

“No, you didn’t. Let’s leave it at that.” Barker still didn’t move her gaze from M. Q watched as Alec retreated to lean against the wall, head bowed and his hands in his pockets. He caught James’ eye and immediately looked away. Barker continued. “So you said it would be easier if you had an onsite plant?”

“I could probably find a network connection to their organization, but it’s unlikely the same network is used at every one of their bases…it’s probably a separate intranet,” Q said thoughtfully. “If we could manage to get a device that allowed for wireless access inside the base then I could get into it. But I’m not sure how well that’ll work. Chances are they’ll be able to trace the hack to the plant and then from the plant back to us. We need to destroy the facility as soon as I’ve retrieved the information required to gain access to the rest of the web.”

“Sir, the Chairman’s just arrived.” Moneypenny opened the door to show Mr. Holmes through. He nodded to the agents present and stood just beside Mallory’s desk.

“Well, this is quite a …unexpected situation.” Mallory set the file that Mycroft handed him down on his desk. “I must say, I’m impressed that you’re still here, Agent Barker.”

“If this is where I need to be, I will be,” Barker smiled weakly.

“Alphonse McCallum has quite the impressive track record. He was one of the most notorious criminals in the Eastern hemisphere in the last fifty years. He ran nuclear warhead scandals, licensed illegal weapon development, and organized a sex slave ring in Africa and the Middle East. Many of the operations were found and eliminated after his supposed death, but then again,” Mycroft paused, “here he is.”

“The problem is that I have no idea how he survived. I blew up the base. All exits were destroyed. I barely made it out of there, and I had a planned route,” Barker said in frustration.

“That’s why we need 006,” Mallory said with a smile.

“In terms of the wireless connection, is there any way that we could rig it to explode and destroy the compound once you’re in the database?” Barker asked.

“I think so…but our resident expert on that is 006.” Q looked over to where Alec was still leaning against the door. “What do you think?”

“Erm…probably not. The plant will have to be small enough to be able to sneak onsite, and that will limit the amount of damage that it’ll do.” Alec looked up, seeming to be a bit more confident now that he had something he knew he could talk about. “The best thing you could do is place it somewhere close to a control panel or something, or get multiple charges that are small enough to be undetected and place them throughout the compound.”

Barker nodded thoughtfully. “Why don’t we focus on where the compound is for the moment? It’s all well and good planning but if we don’t know where we’re going, it’s not going to be much use.”

Mr. Holmes nodded. “Yes, I agree. How do you wish to proceed?”

“You said something about Mongolia? Is there a reason for that?” Tanner said to Barker.

“Well, from what I remember, The Fa…McCallum used to travel to Mongolia every single year for a month, just after stopping off at the girls’ camp to…” Barker trailed off. “Just after stopping by the girls’ camp.”

“I see,” Mr. Holmes said, smiling slightly at Barker. He turned to Tanner. “The data gathered should encompass all of the locations they currently operating out of, including Mongolia. The blueprints should be attached. I will try to see if I can gather any more information, but that will have to suffice for now.”

“Thank you for your time, Chairman. It should do very well.” Mallory stood and shook Mr. Holmes’ hand. “We will keep you updated.”

“I hope we can get this resolved as soon as possible.” Mycroft walked towards the door, stopping to place one hand on Q’s shoulder. “I do hate to see you so upset, brother dear.”

“Sod off, Mycroft.” Q looked over to see everyone’s faces in a state of disbelief - or in Bond and Barker’s case, admiration. “What are you all staring at? He’s my brother, I can talk to him however I want.”

“Yes you can,” Bond smirked. Barker rolled her eyes.

“Would you two mind flirting outside?”

“I was just saying that Q is fine to talk to his brother however he wants.”

“Yeah, for you two that’s flirting.”

“No one’s arguing, James,” Alec said. Even Tanner and Mallory were nodding in agreement. Mycroft spoke up from just outside the door.

“She’s not wrong, brother dear!”

“Shut up. All of you. Shut. Up.” Q rubbed his forehead as James simply laughed. “What’s so funny?”

“You keep denying what is blatantly obvious to everyone but yourself, dear Quartermaster,” James said.

“Agreed. Could you just shag and get it over with?” Barker said, turning to fix the two of them with a stern glare. “It would be so much easier to breathe in Q-Branch all the time.”

“And I’m pretty sure there’s a substantial wager going around,” Tanner said.

“That’s because you just put two hundred quid in last week,” Barker frowned.

“Do you blame me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Exactly,” Tanner smiled triumphantly, “but I agree with you. It would make everything a lot easier.”

James turned back to Q. “Well, my dear Quartermaster?”

Q huffed in annoyance. “Oh…sod off.” He stood and walked out the door. Just before he reached the elevator, he turned around and stared at the group still watching from inside the office. He cursed under his breath. “Fine. Nine o’clock on the dot, don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” James smirked. As Q left, Barker reached over and gave Tanner a high five. “Did you just win the bet, Tanner?”

“No. But I will give you twenty quid if you guess who did.”

“Eve?”

“Well done, wonder how on earth you came to that conclusion,” Barker deadpanned from where she was relaxed in the chair.

“You know, for someone who just figured out their mortal enemy is still alive and determined to kill you, you’re awfully chipper,” James said, turning around and folding his arms.

Barker smiled. “Well, my OTP did just become canon. I’m allowed to be happy.”

“Your what just did what?” James looked at Tanner, confused. “Is that an innuendo of some sort?”

“In your case, absolutely,” Mallory said. Tanner, meanwhile, was almost doubled over with laughter. James simply threw his arms up in exasperation.

“Whenever you feel the need to tell me what the bloody hell you’re talking about. Now, Miss Barker, if you’d like to join me?” James headed out the door, Barker tagging along after she had high-fived both Tanner and Mallory. “All joking aside, are you alright, Barker?”

“James Bond, caring about feelings other than his Quartermaster or a mark?” She said dryly. “Well, I’m obviously not the Quartermaster. So…”

The elevator dinged onto the private range for the Double-Ohs. As Barker stepped out, a hand grabbed her right wrist and threw her headlong across the floor. She reacted on instinct, rolling to a crouch quickly and turning to see who had attacked her. She wasn’t too surprised to see Bond striding towards her with a grim look on his face. She stood quickly and swiveled into a fighting stance. She ran her gaze quickly over him as he walked forwards, analyzing his figure to see if he was armed - which he probably was - and where it was. As he got near, she took one step backward.

“What are you doing, sir?”

“You think you can just waltz back into the heart of this organization and take over, don’t you?” He snarled as he drew the Walther from his side holster and clicked off the safety. “Well guess what, kid. Just because you’re Agent Barker doesn’t mean you can boss the rest of us around.” He aimed the gun directly at Barker’s heart.

“And just because you’re a Double-Oh doesn’t mean you’re going to shoot me.” Barker met Bond’s gaze easily, unafraid of the loaded gun mere inches from her chest.

“You sound reasonably certain of that, Agent. Might want to reconsider.” Bond moved a step closer.

“You’re not going to shoot me, Bond,” Barker said, dropping out of her fighting stance and lowering her arms to her sides.

“How are you so sure, Barker?” Bond stepped close enough to press the gun against Barker’s chest. She held up the magazine. “How on earth did you manage to get that?”

“Well, you get enough guns held to your face, you learn a few things,” Barker laughed, stepping back as Bond held his hand out for the mag. “Oh no, I’m not handing this over. You did just aim the gun at me.”

“I wasn’t actually going to shoot you, Barker,” Bond called after her as she walked towards the gun table.

“So you admit you weren’t going to shoot me?” Barker turned and faced Bond triumphantly.

“No. Obviously not. Do you have any idea how many people would have my head if I shot Agent Barker?” He crossed to join her at the table.

“Somewhere in the low hundreds?”

“Mhm. There was a reason for that other than just because I could.” Bond reached over and took the magazine out of her hand. He tried to insert it back into his gun, but there was something wrong. “You little…”

“I never said it was the magazine out of your gun,” Barker smiled as Bond put the gun down and turned to her, annoyed, “I never said it was anything.”

“Hmm. This actually works out fine.” Bond pushed the table out of the way.

“What?” Barker backed away slowly.

“The other reason I mentioned? It was because there’s another wager going around. Quite a popular one since that tournament.” Bond and Barker slowly began to circle each other.

“And what exactly would that be?” A smile slowly crawled across both of their faces.

“That I could beat you.”

“Now who on earth would start that bet?”

“I’m fairly certain it was Alec.”

“I’m not surprised.”

There was no time for Barker to say everything else because Bond had lunged at her. She flipped out of the way, twisting nimbly across the arena. Bond straightened up and threw another punch at her. As she grabbed his arm, she tried to throw him away from her, but he wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck and slammed her to the ground. She winced as she hit the ground. Bond’s hand was heavy holding her down and he bent to mumble next to her ear.

  
“Maybe you should go thank him for me.”

“What on earth for?” Barker’s heel came up and planted itself in Bond’s crotch. She used his momentary flinch of pain to get away. “Seems to me that you should be cursing the day that bet was made.”

“Cocky little kitten, aren’t you?” Bond stood up and rolled his shoulders. “Maybe someone ought to fix that.”

“Are you going to?”

Bond’s smirk abruptly turned into a grimace as Barker’s foot connected with his jaw. As he stumbled, she took the opportunity to place her leg just behind him and lightly shove his chest. He fell backward with a thump. He got to his feet, cursing slightly.

“What was that, sir?”

“You think this easy.”

“Well, I – “Barker was cut off as Bond’s elbow connected with her ribs, sending her sprawling. He tried to pin her down but she rolled over onto her back and used one leg to vault him over her head. She swiveled until she was standing again, but Bond was quick to regain his footing and immediately readied for combat. Barker threw herself forward onto her hands and wrapped her legs around Bond’s torso. As she tried to topple him over backward, he placed his hands on her hips and twisted, landing her flat on her back. Unfortunately, Barker’s legs were still keeping her off the ground, giving her the opportunity to plant her legs on his sides and squirm, throwing him off balance. She stood up and planted her foot squarely on Bond’s chest.

“You didn’t let me finish!” She gave a mock pout. “How rude.”

“If you knew me, sweetheart,” Bond’s hand came down hard on Barker’s knee, causing it to buckle and she came down on top of him. “You’d know I make that a habit.”

Barker rolled her eyes. “And just when I thought this couldn’t get any worse.” As soon as she had finished speaking, she flipped them over and had her arm placed across his neck. “You had to make that joke.”

“You gave me the opportunity,” Bond smirked, “of course I had to make it.”

He pushed her over and the two stood opposite each other, Bond slightly out of breath and Barker adjusting her ponytail. They stayed like that, waiting until Barker turned around and went to the gun table in the corner of the room. But she never quite got there.

Bond’s weight slammed full force into her back and she was knocked down, her head banging hard down onto the ground. Bond held her down as she tried to turn her head to ease the strain on her neck.

“Why did you turn around, Barker? You knew I would attack you.”

“Yes. I did.” Barker’s voice was quiet. “But I was hoping that you’d do that instead of going for the other thing.”

“What other thing?” Bond turned his head to look and was instantly blinded by a flash of white light. In his instant of confusion, Barker had him flat on his back and her gun aimed at his chest.

“That other thing, darling.” She smiled and stepped off. “May I?”

“Thanks.” Bond took Barker’s outstretched hand and used it to pull her down on top of him, crushing her to his chest. “Much better.”

“Bond.” Barker’s voice was a warning. “Could you please let me go now?”

“Why?” He adjusted her so she was flat on top of him.

“Because I’m fairly certain Q is watching.”

“Fair point.”

The two picked themselves up off the ground. Bond tugged his cuffs down and reached over to place his gun back down on to the table. Barker re-tightened her ponytail and smoothed her sleeve. “Well, that went well.”

“Agreed.” Bond handed Barker the gun, safety on. “Truce?”

“Of course, sir.” Barker took the gun and aimed it down the range. She clicked off the safety. As she fired off the first three shots, Bond whistled when they all landed in the chest area. She emptied the mag and placed the gun back down on the table. Pressing the button to bring the target closer, the paper sailed towards them, fluttering from the holes where the head and chest should’ve been. Barker turned to see Bond surveying her with a smile. “What is it?”

“I’m really glad I’m not Alphonse McCallum right about now.”

 


	13. Attack on a Titan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission is carried out. 
> 
> Can they ever seem to go right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even sorry

He was even gladder when Q called them back to his office.

“So you’ve found him.” Barker’s face was caught between excitement and apprehension. “You found the base.”

“Even better, we’ve found a way in,” Q explained, zooming in on the schematics for the warehouse, “unfortunately for them, licensing in Mongolia is relatively simple to track given there’s never too many companies that can provide it.”

“Isn’t there the possibility of forgery?” Bond didn’t doubt Q’s abilities, but neither could he underestimate an opponent.

He needn’t have worried when Q looked up with a smirk. “Like I said, there’s only so many companies.”

“So this is definitely it,” Barker said, folding her arms, “this is their base. And you’ve found a way in?”

“Yes. See this little room on the side of the second floor?”

There was what appeared to be a control room overlooking a large work area.

“There’s a duct leading from the roof directly into this room, and judging by the digital signatures we’ve detected from our satellite, there’s enough general noise being produced for you two to drop in without being detected from outside viewers.”

“Wonderful. But I’m guessing that also means no comms.”

“No. Not unless you’d like me to hack into their network with no entry point, giving us away. The only way to do this, according to 006’s reports, is with a black box program, and those have to be implanted directly into the network. So, unfortunately, once you land on the roof, you’ll have to go dark, plant the black box, then place the charges.” Q pulled the two kits from underneath his desk and placed them on the desk. “This means that you don’t get all the toys this time around. Quick entry, explosive exit. We can’t leave a base like this operational, but I need time to download all the data. So you’ll have to be quick getting in, but take out as many as you can once you’re there to give me time.”

“I have a feeling that won’t be a problem,” Barker smirked, “as I’m fairly certain there’s no reason not send all those fuckers straight to hell.” She glanced up at the shocked and vaguely amused faces of Q and Bond. “What, can’t I swear?”

“You most certainly can,” Q said, sliding her kit across the table, “I’m sure you’re familiar with these, however, I’m not as sure I’m going to get them back this time.”

“You do what you like, darling,” Barker said as she turned to leave, “as will I.”

They watched her walk out of Q-Branch, Bond opening his kit before shaking his head at Q. “Honestly, I’ve kind of lost track of the plot at this point.”

“You’re about to fly to Mongolia to take down a criminal mastermind who specializes in overglorified control devices, human trafficking, and is currently attempting to take over the world with little disks that look no bigger than a tin of mints with an agent who is an MI6 legend and apparently has a personal vendetta against your target,” Q summarized drily, “sounds a bit complex if you ask me.”

“Well, good, now I know the basics again,” Bond smirked, leaning against Q’s desk, “and I’m guessing I should probably go before I overthink it any more, hm?”

“You don’t want to keep her waiting.” Q had already gone back to his keyboards. “006 has given his input, M’s given the go-ahead, and I’m not going to be of any use until you get that black box plugged in. We can only access the intranets once we know the common code.”

“I’ll take my leave then.”

Bond walked out of Q-Branch, up to the car parked outside where Barker was waiting.

“You give him a kiss goodbye?”

“I quite like my balls intact, so no, not yet.”

“So you’re trying to do this properly then,” she asked as the car started to roll, “dates and all that beforehand?”

“I doubt very much the Quartermaster expects anything other than wining and dining before he’ll let me near him,” Bond remarked, “especially considering who his brothers are.”

Barker laughed. “Yes, well, I’m sure they’ve made it abundantly clear.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a pointed stare, “you most certainly have.”

They were quiet for a few minutes. The city faded out as they neared the airfield, the tarmac stretching out in front of them. The plane was small, designed as a leisure vessel for a rich person who had too much money with no idea what to spend it on. Their driver bade them farewell as they exited, the pilot waiting at the top of the steps.

“Shall we?”

When they were seated and the plane took off, Barker pulled out a file from the stack on the table and opened it, her own face staring back at her.

Bond watched her, eyebrow raised. “You’re the only agent I know of who bothers to read her own file before a mission.”

“It helps me think.”

“Stroking your own ego?”

Barker glanced up at him with a smirk. “You’d be the expert on that.”

Bond conceded her point with a wave of his hand. “Seriously though, why bother?”

Barker spread the files out on the table. On one side were her file and Bond’s debriefing packet, on the other were the intel on McCallum, the blueprints, and her kit.

“Think of it as a game, though if that offends your serious sensibilities, you can call it a simulation.”

Bond smirked. Serious sensibilities, sure. Judging by the gleam in Barker’s eye she knew it too.

“On one side, you have us.” She indicated the files with her hand. “On the other side, you have them.” She waved towards the blueprints. “In an ideal world, what happens?”

Well, that was just an open invitation. “I’d have Q in my flat - “

“For the mission,” Barker interrupted gently, “ideally, once we drop to the roof, what happens?”

“We infiltrate the control room, plug in Q’s magic gizmo, shoot as many of those bastards as we like before Q gives us the okay to blow the place to hell and we return to the rendezvous point and come home.”

“And what has to be in place for that to happen? What rules must there be to achieve that outcome?”

Bond frowned, confused. There normally weren’t any rules in the field, that was the point.

Barker seemed to pick up on his confusion. “So let’s see, one: we have to get to the control room without them knowing, two: we can’t let any of them shoot us before we shoot them, three: we have to plug in the computer and give Q enough time before blowing the place to hell, yes?”

He nodded.

“So out of all of the things that have to go right, what is the most likely rule of those that will be broken?”

Bond thought. “They will probably have some sort of detection that will make it hard to get to the control room unseen, once they know we’re in they’ll try and swarm the room, which will make it hard for us to both ensure there’s enough time for Q to get the info he needs and place the charges at all the right locations.”

Barker nodded. “Exactly.”

“So all of them are most likely to be broken. What’s the point of having rules if you’re just going to break them anyway?”

Barker smirked. “That seems to be a good philosophy of yours. The point of having them, at least for me, is to make sure I know what I have to do to maximize success. The most important thing is that Q gets that information. The next most important in that the base gets destroyed. What do we -” she indicated their files - “need to do to make sure that they - “ she indicated the blueprints - “don’t know what our rules are?”

“Kill as many as possible to maximize time and avoid detection.”

“Which as you recall were two of the things we said we needed to achieve our ideal situation.” Barker looked back down at the table. “Making the rules like that helps to evaluate my position and theirs, but I like to have as much information as possible before I do so.”

“Well, you certainly put a lot more effort into it that I do,” Bond said, leaning back in his chair, “we’ll have to see what happens.”

“That’s all we can ever do, isn’t it?”

* * *

The plane’s cargo door opened as they neared the drop zone. Bond had to admit, even after all of the times he’d jumped out of a moving plane, one never really got used to the feeling.

Free-fall, although it offered some of the best views, meant air hitting his face full on as he reached terminal velocity, then after he pulled the cord, weight, air resistance, and his ability to hold his stomach fought against each other as they drifted towards the roof.

Luckily for them, the warehouse was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, meaning there were few people around to see them land on the roof, even fewer who could report it before being neutralized. Unfortunately for them, the warehouse’s location meant there were pesky gusts of wind blowing them about, making controlling their descent an absolute nightmare.

Had this been the end of their mission, Bond’s shoulders would’ve dropped in relief after his feet hit the roof. Instead, he quickly discarded his parachute and drew his Walther. A few feet away, Barker did the same, pressing her comm into her ear and glancing around for the entrance.

“Entrance located, Q. Ready to go.”

  
“Remember, I’ll need about 5 minutes for the black box to break through their encryptions and another 15 before you can blow everything sky-high.”

“Copy that Q,” Bond said, “we’re heading in now. 007, going dark.”

“Agent Barker, going dark.”

“Approved, 007, Agent Barker. Go dark.”

With Q’s crisp, posh tones gone from their ears, the two moved towards the vent intake. Producing a small clip from his suit pocket, Bond opened the vent and set it carefully down by the side. Barker crawled in first, Bond following to wedge the cover back into place. They navigated through the vent system towards the control room, moving slowly to minimize noise. They were fortunate that a large majority of the warehouse was loud enough to cover any small sounds they made.

They were nearing the control room when Barker held up her hand. Bond froze behind her. Sure enough, they could hear muffled voices coming from below them.

“We’re going to have to try and wait them out or place the charges first before coming back,” Barker muttered.

“We can’t just wait; the longer we’re here, the more chance they have of finding us.”

Barker nodded her assent. “Then turn around, this vent doesn’t go anywhere else and we’ve got to head outwards from the center of the plant to make sure the entire system buckles.”

Bond smirked as he turned and they began to shuffle back towards the main junction. “You just want an excuse to stare at my arse.”

“Like you haven’t been staring at mine the whole time.”

“I am affronted by the implications you are making.”

“You are both a shit and a liar.”

They worked their way slowly around the base, planting the charges at places where the vents would direct the blasts to destroy the building’s supports. Every so often they had to pause and wait for someone to pass before continuing. The vent system was cramped and slippery. It was also very uncomfortable crawling for that amount of time, only changing positions to climb up or down.

“This is the last charge,” Bond whispered after placing it against the wall at the last junction, “we have to head back to the control room now.”

“Which means - “

“ - I hope they’re gone.”

“Me too.”

Slowly, the pair of them worked their way back towards the office, straining to hear the sounds that signaled the approach of workers. Sooner than expected, they arrived back at the control office. This time, there were no workers in sight.

Bond passed the clip up to Barker who carefully unscrewed the vent. As the fourth corner came loose, the vent began to fall. Quickly, she laced her fingers through the vent gaps, wincing as the metal dug into her fingers. Hooking her grasp onto the edge of the vent, she lowered her body through the hole, keeping a tight grasp on the cover. She dropped to the ground into a crouch and looked up as Bond followed her through.

“Not bad. See if you can wedge this back in there,” she said, handing Bond the cover before going to bar the door. “Luckily, I don’t think they’ll be back here. It looks like the majority of this stuff is automated and doesn’t require people in here too often.”

“Good,” Bond said, producing the drive Q gave them and plugging it into the terminal under the desk, “because we have 20 minutes before we can go.”

“Yes, we do.” Barker took up position by the door. “Which is why I’m slightly concerned that the windows seemed to be tinted so whoever’s on the floor can’t see whoever’s in here.”

Bond glanced at the window. Sure enough, the bottom of the windows had little waves that were visible only certain angles, not unlike screen protectors in Q-Branch that prevented outside eyes from looking at the information. Barker did raise a good question.

“Is it too much to hope that this is just how shady he is that he doesn’t want people to know when they’re being monitored versus when they’re not so they’re always on their best behavior?”

Barker mulled it over. “That does sound like something he would do. Maybe I’m just getting paranoid.”

Bond chuckled. “Yes, well, that’s what I’m here for. To reassure you.”

“You’d think they would’ve sent someone else aside from 007 for that,” she smirked, letting her eyes flick to his before returning to the door, “but I’m sure you’re trying your best.”

“Yes, well, I guess I can understand the instinct,” Bond said as he looked back at the screens that showed Q’s download time estimates. The black box protocol broke through the encryption layers surrounding the majority of the files and was now making quick work of sequestering them all onto the drive. As the files began to download, Bond glanced up at the work floor.

The ceilings were high and vaulted, which was surprising for a warehouse in the middle of Mongolia, meaning that the first and second floors opened up into one big space. There were long rows of sheet metal laid on top of each other stretching across the floor. Workers were walking up and down the rows in between them, seemingly looking at their quality, except they were staggering towards the exits.

Bond peered at them as they walked down. Quickly, he glanced down at the computer. 40% done.

He looked back out the window. The people walking towards the exit were walking with a purpose, clearly, because there were a couple of them shoving their partners towards the exit when they stayed behind too long. The doors at the end of the building, under the office where Bond and Barker stood, were wide open, and as people neared them, they glanced up at the office.

Because of the windows, they couldn’t see inside, but as one of the workers glanced up, Bond locked onto his gaze. Vacant. Mindless.

And clearly intent on leaving and never coming back.

Maybe Barker’s instincts had been right. “Barker,” Bond called over his shoulder, “come look at this.”

With a final glance towards the door, Barker joined him at the window to look down at the workers.

“Oh my god, that’s a lot more people than I expected to be here.”

“It’s a large warehouse, and we did hear a fair amount of people when we went through the vents, but not this many.”

“But why are they leaving now?” Barker frowned at the workers below. “They look like...drones.”

“See if you can catch one of their gazes. They tend to look up here when they near the exit.”

They were silent as they watched the workers filter out of the building. One of them looked up again. Bond winced at their expression; it was concerning to see such a...lifeless expression on someone’s face.

“What the hell?” Barker squinted down at them. “What the fuck is wrong with them? They look like zombies.”

“That’s a surprisingly accurate description,” Bond said, glancing at the computer. 50% done. “What on earth happened to them? It looks like they’ve been brainwashed.”

Barker stepped back towards the door, retaking her post as sentry. “I don’t know. Maybe the serum works both as a conduit for the disks and a narcotic. That may explain why people are so eager to act as test subjects.”

Bond’s head shot up.

“You think everyone in this warehouse in under the influence of that serum,” he said slowly, “but this wasn’t supposed to be a center for that. You said it was a manufacturing plant.”

“I did.” Barker met his gaze. “I also said I don’t know why I thought it was Mongolia.”

“So why are we here?” Bond looked back at the computer screen. 57% done. “We’re working to bring down an organization we don’t really understand in a warehouse full of people under the influence of some foreign narcotic you only thought to mention a second ago downloading a full set of data full of god knows what because of some dots on a map in different colors that just happen to target heavily populated areas, meaning there could be no correlation between the three.” He barely realized he was rambling when he looked up to see Barker had her gun trained on him.

“Put your hands where I can see them and step away from the computer.”

“Barker, what are you doing?”

“Now!” Her grip didn’t waver so he slowly edged away, putting his back to the window and the terminals to his right. “How the hell did you get in here?”

Bond frowned. What? “We got in here together, Barker,” he said slowly, “ we climbed through the vents and dropped in.”

“Liar,” she snarled, “I came in here with one of my agents, now what have you done with him, and how did you get in here?”  
“Barker, it’s me,” James repeated, risking a step closer, “I’m the agent who came here with you. There’s no one else in here.”

“Don’t play games with me, McCallum,” Barker said, refocusing her gun on his chest, “what did you do with him?”

“Barker, he’s not here!” Bond paused, looking at her face. The same glassy-eyed gaze from the workers was staring back at him. “Barker, the serum must’ve gotten into your system somehow, whatever you’re seeing isn’t real, Alphonse McCallum isn’t in this room, I promise.”

“Oh, but isn’t he?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not sorry


	14. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightmare is back. 
> 
> Will they make it out?

Bond’s blood ran cold. Sure enough, behind Barker, another man opened the door. On instinct, he reached for his Walther only to freeze when Barker reminded him - quite forcefully - of the gun still trained on him.

“I have to say, I was surprised that you got this far,” McCallum said, coming to stand next to Barker who froze, barely even breathing anymore, “two complete strangers, infiltrating my warehouse in the middle of nowhere? No backup, no convoy, just -” he waved tauntingly between them - “you two.”

“Agent, come on,” Bond tried, only to get cut off by McCallum’s laughter.

“Oh don’t bother,” he said, indicating her bloody hand, “the serum’s in her bloodstream now. I have to say, that was a stroke of luck. I had planned on reintroducing the toxin into the air supply to get rid of you, but look at you! You did it yourself, seems there was enough residue on the covers to infect you. I wish all my captives were as proactive as you. Pity I’ve never had you here before.”

Barker didn’t move. Bond did, glancing behind him out the window. The majority of the workers were gone, leaving the large floor devoid of movement. He snuck a glance at the computer screen as he glanced back towards the pair by the door. 72% done.

“So, before I kill you two, would you like to explain what you’re doing here?” McCallum’s tone was light as if he’d asked a question over a cup of tea. “Or rather, I guess I’m more asking you,” he said as he nodded to Bond, “this one’s a little shaken right now.” He brushed a tendril of Barker’s hair behind her ear.

The monster in James’s chest growled softly. “How did you introduce the toxin into the air supply?”

“Are you a chemist?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t bore you with the details,” McCallum replied pleasantly, “considering we've got a limited time before the serum wears off and I quite like this little sentry I have right here. Don't know what she's seeing but it'll keep you in your place.”

Bond gritted his teeth. He had to stall for time somehow. Luckily, McCallum seemed to remember that he didn’t answer his first question.

“So how did you get here? And why? I assume you’re not here for my hospitality.”

He stole a glance at Barker. The glassy look in her eyes was fading, but not fast enough. “Crawled through the vents. They’re very clean, well done.”

“Well, we try to avoid any contamination we can, keeps the supply from running dry too quick.” McCallum waved his hand back and forth in front of his face. “Plus it keeps the place from smelling too musty.”

He looked Bond up and down, nodding appreciatively at the state of his suit. “Judging by your attire, you’re not inspectors.”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe we just prefer looking sharp when we crawl through miles of vent systems.”

McCallum’s mouth twitched but he pressed on. “What are you doing here? Not that I despise you from bringing me a new toy to play with,” he said as he placed his hands on Barker’s shoulders and slid them down to her waist, “but they don’t live here, so I doubt you’re familiar with the channels to go through. And you crawled through the vents. You could’ve just knocked.”

Bond’s lip curled at the mention of ‘toys’ but stayed silent. McCallum sighed.

“Well, if you’re not going to tell me, I can always ask this one later.” He sidled up behind Barker, pressing himself to her back. “I’m sure once I get to know her she’ll be quite the talker.”

“You’re not going to touch her,” Bond snarled.

McCallum’s eyebrow raised as he slid his hands up and down her sides in defiance of Bond’s words. “What do you think, sweetheart, shall we kill him?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Are you a sweetheart? Sugar? Honey? Baby? No, none of those really fit,” he mused, looking back towards Bond who was avidly watching Barker’s expression, the glassy look fading quickly now. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now, we’ll have plenty of time to figure out what’s right for you later. I do love new projects.”

Barker’s expression didn’t shift, but something in her eyes hardened. Bond seized it and ran.

“Agent, you don’t have to do this, you don’t have to shoot me.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” McCallum crooned, placing his chin on her shoulder, “but she will. Won’t you?”

Barker’s finger inched to the trigger.

“That’s it, good girl. Go on,” McCallum said, making eye contact with Bond, “kill him. Be strong.”

_Be strong._

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Barker.”

Her grip wavered.

Bond watched as her gaze finally locked onto him, properly, and her hands steadied. McCallum frowned at her before his eyes widened. “Barker?”

She reacted so fact Bond could barely blink before it was over. With one hand she grabbed McCallum’s shirt and threw him to the floor. He was dead before he hit the ground, blood seeping out of what remained of his head.

Bond released a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding. He was dead. It was over.

He glanced up at Barker who hadn’t looked away from the corpse on the ground. Stepping carefully over the growing puddle, he looked at the computer screen. 98% done.

“Barker? Are you alright?”

Her face was calm as if she hadn’t just shot the man who raped her as a child and doomed her to a life as a reprogrammable assassin. Still, when she finally looked up and met his gaze, the relief was palpable.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Bond nodded. “Good. Can we blow this place to hell where it belongs now?”

They glanced at the computer.

100% done.

They looked back at each other. Identical smirks crawled across their faces.

Barker grabbed the drive as Bond kicked the door open. They dashed out of the control room, wary of any workers that might still be present before quickly locating the loading dock. There were three large trucks parked in the main bays, with two sedans in a side lot.

Quickly, they jumped inside and Bond ripped the cover off the steering column, reaching for the clip to strip the insulation off the battery wires and twisting them together.

“Was hotwiring a car part of the rules?” he asked as they pulled away.

“At this point, I think anything that involves getting the fuck away from this warehouse is part of the rules,” Barker smirked as they drove down the road, “how big did Q say the blast radius was?”

“I think…” Barker trailed off as they continued driving, “about this far.”

They could see the explosion go off in the rearview mirror.

“You brought the drive, right?” Barker asked nonchalantly as they turned into the empty field where the plane was waiting.

Bond glanced at her. “I thought you had it.”

“I do,” she laughed as he shoved her shoulder, “I just wanted to see you freak out.”

“You, Agent Barker, are a shit.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

* * *

“I told you we should’ve stolen the other car,” Barker groused as they were pulled away to Medical the second they walked inside, “why’d you have to go for the flashy sports car? Everyone knows it’s you if there’s no point in having a car like that.”

“But it did look cool,” Bond defended, letting the doctor shrug his out of his jacket, “you have to admit that.”

“Style points aren’t good for anything if you can’t see it all the way through, dumbass.” Barker waved the nurse trying to take a blood sample away, relaxing into her seat. “The whole point of stealing the car was to not end up in Medical.”

“Yes, well, next time you do try to pull a stunt like this, don’t try it with a car that has a computer system less secure than a thermostat.”

Ah. Q. That would explain some of it.

The Quartermaster walked into Medical shortly followed by Moneypenny and Alec, the last of whom chucked a paper ball at James’ head sniggering.

“Why?” Barker stared at the two of them.

James groaned. “We bet the next person to end up in Medical would get something thrown at their head.”

“Again, why?”

“Because clearly, they aren’t fitting the Double-Oh standard for idiocy yet,” Q remarked drily, “and they’re trying to help each other along.”

“I don’t know, the fact that they came up with this speaks for itself.”

“Oi,” Alec said, “I’ll have you know that this was all his idea.” He pointed at James who just leveled a hard stare in his direction.

“And now they’re resorting to pointing fingers like four-year-olds,” Moneypenny added, rolling her eyes. “There’s a wager going around for how long it’ll be before they do it in mission reports.”

“Yeah, uh, no, I’m not going anywhere near that thing, as I’m not entirely sure it hasn’t happened already.”

To that, both agents immediately pointed at each other.

“See?”

“Alright, children, enough,” Q said, holding his hand out, “at least tell me you were competent enough to remember the drive.”

Barker produced the drive from her pocket, her gun from her holster, and placed her comm next to it. “That everything?”

“Yes, thank you,” Q said, moving onto Bond, “now you.”

“So, funny story - “

“Oh for chrissakes, what’ve you done this time?”

“- I actually have everything this time.”

James grinned like the cat who got the cream as he triumphantly placed both his gun and his comm into Q’s hands. Moneypenny started laughing.

“He was right, that is a funny story.”

“Well, it’s good to see Barker’s been a positive influence on you,” Q said as he smirked up at Bond, “but this does mean I expect these kinds of results from now on, given that makes three missions in a row where I’ve had everything back from you.”

“Now let’s be reasonable about this,” James started, making the whole room laugh.

“Well done you two,” Q said softly, “and welcome back.”

“Is that all the welcome I’m going to get?” Bond leered up at Q, watching a light pink blush spread across his cheeks. Despite his color, Q’s voice was even.

“That’s all you’re going to get until you make good on your offer.”

“And what offer is that?”

“Hopefully the one that involves not waiting another three years before either of you pull your heads out of your arses and make a move,” Eve stage-whispered to Barker.

“Will you stop?” Q spun around. “I’ve even had M asking me about this.”

“Wait really?” Barker burst out laughing. “Oh my god, I didn’t think he’d take it seriously.”

Everyone stared at her.

“I may or may not have told your brother he could ask Mallory for updates.”

Q sighed deeply. “He’s already hacked into the memo system we use here, and god knows the minions are involved enough. He should have all the information he wants, and the information he doesn’t.”

“He’s your brother, dear Quartermaster,” James said, “he’s obliged to embarrass you.”

“But that’s such a waste of his time! Especially considering he’d rather pluck out his own eyes than talk to anymore stifling admin personnel than necessary.”

“Okay but isn’t that everyone after talking with Mallory though?”

“She isn’t wrong!” 006 called over his shoulder as he walked away.

Eve glanced at her phone and sighed. “Speaking of our illustrious boss, he’s requesting that you meet him upstairs as soon as you’re finished.”

“In that case, I’m very glad we stole the wrong car,” James remarked, stretching lazily, “now we have an excuse.”

“But would you rather stay down here and be poked and stabbed or go up and get it over with?” Barker made a good point.

“Oh very well, we’re alright, aren’t we?” Bond glanced at Barker, hoping to pass the question off as nonchalant.

“I suppose,” she said, standing. She caught Bond’s gaze and nodded. She was alright.

They parted ways with Q at the elevators, the three of them heading up to M’s office. Moneypenny sat at her desk as Bond opened the door, ushering Barker in before closing it behind them.

“Chairman.”

Mycroft Holmes rose from his seat in front of M’s desk and tapped his umbrella on the floor.

“007. Agent Barker. I assume congratulations are in order.”

“Mission accomplished, sir,” Bond said, eyeing both M and Holmes.

“Ah yes. Well done.” M indicated the space in front of his desk. They stood in front of him. “Q tells me the information you gathered in Mongolia should be enough to ensure the complete destruction of all of McCallum’s webs.”

“They seem to have made the mistake of using the same basic network for all of their dealings.”

“Even though you said they were clever enough to separate themselves into separate organizations,” Holmes interjected, focusing on the tip of his umbrella.

“Well, the common thread is cut, so the whole rug should unravel,” Bond remarked, meeting the Chairman’s gaze.

“So he’s dead then,” M interjected, looking to Barker.

“Well, I shot him through the head before I blew up the warehouse this time, so yes, I would assume so.”

“There’s never really a guarantee though, is there?”

Barker frowned. “Sir?”

“Well, I suppose it’s not our problem anymore,” Holmes said, brushing over the question, “now all we have to do is set about dismantling the rest of the network.”

M nodded. “For now, though, you’ve got some free time. We’ve nothing to do until Q can make sense of the data and I daresay you’ve earned it.”

“That’s almost more dangerous,” Barker remarked.

“Well, we do need people to oversee Bradbury’s training.”

“For?” Bond frowned.

“We need a new 005,” Holmes explained, “and Agent Bradbury seems to be quite capable.”

Barker smiled. “She’ll be thrilled.”

“You also have a promise to keep, 007.”

“Sir?” Bond asked, before noticing Barker was studiously avoiding his gaze and the Chairman was once again studying the tip of his umbrella. “Oh, for - “

“As Ms. Moneypenny pointed out, you’ve yet to pull your heads out of your arses,” Holmes stated as easily as if he’d remarked about the paint quality, “so get on with it.”

Barker snickered as Bond nodded firmly. “I intend to.”

“Good. I expect I’ll see you at some point?” Barker nodded. “Until then, my dear. Good day, all.”

After he walked out, M sat down, pulling the files towards him. “Well, both of you may go. You’ve certainly done what was required of you, though I am concerned as to what happens next.”

“Well, it’s not McCallum,” Barker said cheerfully as they headed out, “he’s Satan’s problem now.”

“I thought Holmes said he wasn’t our problem anymore,” Bond quipped.

“You’re giving yourself far too much credit, 007,” Barker returned smoothly, stopping him before they reached the elevator, “but mess this up with Q and you’ll wish for the Devil.”

Without giving him a second to react to what she’d said, Barker headed towards the elevators.

Eve snickered as Bond looked at her. “That was remarkably efficient.”

“Honestly, is everyone going to give me the ‘break his heart and I’ll kill you?’ Because I get it.”

“No, I’m fairly certain that was the ‘break his heart and death is not a mercy I will grant you,’” Eve said.

Bond took a seat on her desk. “So. Been a rough ride, hasn’t it?”

“Mm. Do you think she’ll stay?”

“Someone like that?” Bond shook his head. “We’ll be lucky if she pops in now and then. Given she doesn’t technically work for Six.”

“Guess that means you get to keep your spot at the top,” Eve said as she shooed him off.

Bond waved and turned to go. He caught Barker next to the elevators, getting on to head down to the training rooms. She looked up at him and they both smiled.

 _It’s good to be the best_ , he thought, but watching her stride across the room to catch Bradbury in a hug, he amended his thoughts.

_It’s good to be the best, but it’s better to have someone to share it with._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to go!
> 
> Also you can fite me about the style points (don't please I'm fragile)


	15. Mission Successful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barker meets with Mr. Holmes to discuss the mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOAR CROSSOVER

“I must admit, I am surprised you completed your mission, given how sloppy you became,” Mycroft said, staring at the woman sitting opposite him. “And your reasoning? ‘My gut is telling me Mongolia but I don’t know why?’ Not exactly a foolproof theory.”

“They were less likely to question me than if I provided a detailed description of the facility,” Barker said, “a trauma victim isn’t likely to remember that amount of detail if they haven’t thought about it or worked on it for years.”

“You didn’t have an issue with the level of detail when you were so carefully proving your ‘exposition’ to 007,” Mycroft said with a raised eyebrow, “in fact you were very detailed. So detailed, in fact, I believe you may owe Ms. Romanoff an apology.”

“Oh come on, first of all, I cleared that story with her beforehand, secondly, that one’s textbook,” Barker said with a scoff, “give them a strong, overly private character with a tragic backstory, reveal it only once she’s been ‘broken’ by some outside force, pretend it’s some closely guarded secret and make them feel special.” She leveled a stare at him. “Your brother knows exactly how well a technique like that works.”

Mycroft swallowed his annoyance. “So I suppose all of your ‘panic attacks’ and such were to endear 007 to you as well?”

“Naturally. Why are you so caught up with the details? Alphonse McCallum was a thorn in your side for ages, and we did bust his child-trafficking and narcotics businesses, at least a large part of them, and the rest of his cronies are sure to follow now that Six has all that data. And you didn’t have to do any legwork.”

“You didn’t seem to have that end goal in mind for the entire operation, given your desire to show off.”

Barker raised an eyebrow. “Some of those agents needed knocking down a peg or two.”

“Not the training, agent,” Mycroft said, “but taking out the implant in your arm when you got back from that little stint at the former 005’s.”

“Okay but your face though.”

“Never mind my face,” Mycroft interrupted, “do you think none of them would’ve asked questions as to how you managed to smuggle one of those out?”

“Like I said, the trauma provides quite a cover. The whole point of giving me that implant was to support the cover story you gave me, something 005 - the late 005 - would’ve picked up on through McCallum’s web. We were looking for an excuse to expose her because she wasn’t giving away anything else, and the opportunity presented itself quite nicely.” Barker shifted in her seat. “007 was very co-operative in her extermination. How’s Bradbury doing, by the way?”

Mycroft smiled. “Very well.”

“Good. She’ll be fantastic,” Barker smiled. “After that mission, the implant had served its purpose. It had to come out anyway.”

“And what about the kit you so graciously returned to my brother? You didn’t have the gun and comm you lost during the course of that mission.”

“Yeah, that’s cause it never left the plane,” Barker said, “005 was going to hijack the comm anyway, so I used the one she gave me and the gun from my purse instead of the Q-Branch ones. Then once I got back it was a simple matter of fetching it from the plane first.”

Mycroft sat back in his chair as she grinned at him. “And don’t tell me it wasn’t glorious to see 007 so taken aback.”

Mycroft smirked. “It was. But on the topic of my brother - “

“I’ve no idea whether or not they’ve shagged yet but the smart money’s on yes.”

“They have. But my question was: are you certain he won’t find anything when he looks into the data to continue taking down the network?”

“You’ve seen our specialist work, she’s an expert at crafting these types of scenarios. Unlike whoever you got to make Rosenberg’s file, talk about sloppy. It’s the reason they were even onto me in the first place. Plus,” she added, examining her hand, “it’s been a week, certainly if he’d found anything he’d have told you. Or brought it up with someone.”

“I suppose so.”

“Plus we did that whole time jump beforehand,” Barker continued, “I solved that one case of his back when Mansfield was still around, and the paper files from those days are still around. Q’ll cross-reference those and he’ll be all set.”

“Yes, you will have to thank the good Captain for me.”

“Mm.” Barker stood to go. “Will that be all, Mr. Holmes?”

“Yes, that will be all, Agent Barker.” He stood to shake her hand. “Well done.”

“We have Six on our side now,” she said, “let’s make sure they stay that way, hmm?”

“We’ll do our best.” Mycroft sat back down. “Where are you off to now?”

“There’s a tailor shop on Saville Row I’ve been meaning to visit,” Barker said as she opened his door, “this little stint at Six has reminded me that a good tailor is hard to come by, especially one that doesn’t make their finished product look like spandex.”

“Barker?”

“Yes?”

He regarded her carefully. “Do you really think I talk like that?”

“No, not all the time.” She winked as she left.

Mycroft watched her go. A second later, he buzzed for Anthea to come in. His PA walked in and sat in front of him.

“I take it bringing Six into the fold went well?”

“Yes,” Mycroft said, his eyes still fixed on the door, “the Complex is an ally we can’t afford to lose.”

“Does MI6 know that, sir?”

He looked to Anthea. “Let’s see that they do.”

“Very good, sir.”

She left the room as Mycroft looked at the file on his desk titled ‘Operation Rosenberg.’ He closed it with an air of finality.

_Mission successful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember kids, if it's intentional, it's not bad writing!
> 
> lemme know if you want more Barker, I can definitely do that

**Author's Note:**

> Strap in, fellows, it's gonna be a long ride.


End file.
